#ambw imagine

[leehnz]

imagine babying ni-ki

a/n: idcidc ni-ki is not nonchalant 💔 this is heavily inspired by @purinfelix so thank you to them <3

wc : 343

ni-ki’s never been too particularly fond of appearing vulnerable—especially in front of you. but behind closed doors, it was a completely different story. that’s exactly why he was leaned back in his chair, arms crossed with a stubborn pout adorning his beautifully crafted face. “ni-ki, what’s wrong?” you question from your bed. your eyes were still glued to your phone screen, and if you were being honest, you knew. you knew exactly what was wrong with ni-ki, but you wanted him to say it. recently, his schedule with the boys had been packed, with the new comeback coming up. today was one of his few days to rest, and he was exhausted. but being the big baby he is, he refused to show it. however, the cute little tired lines and dark circles under his expressive eyes told you enough: he was exhausted. “nothing,” he huffed, his eyes beginning to flutter shut. “c’mere riki,” you coo, finally putting your phone down to let him into your arms. he stays put for a moment, but his resolve finally shatters and he’s up and in your arms in less than a second. you pull him into your lap, your fingers gently pushing his head against your chest as you drape a blanket over your bodies. you’re all wrapped up now, legs tangled, his face smooshed against your collar bones. at first he tries to act unaffected, claiming he’s “just resting his eyes” when his lashes threaten to meet, but the way he whines when you shift ever so slightly gives him away. you can’t help but swoon at how comfortable he looks laying flush in your arms. your thumb traces the curve of his jawline, all the way down to his plump pouty lips. he places a soft kiss against the pad of your thumb, his cheeks flushing a warm shade of pink as he does so. the sight is enough to make you melt. “you’re my baby, okay?” you coo, as he nuzzles into your neck, mumbling. “you always baby me,” he sounds whiny—bothered, even—when he says it, but the way he leans into your neck tells you he's anything but bothered. “because you let me,” you whisper into his hair, and he only hums in response, squeezing your waist even tighter. 

m. list

[moonlightdreamzz]

If I ever say it’s cool, just know shit hotter than hell — ENHYPEN (a)

SUMMARY. You and Enhypen just got in your first screaming match argument, and both of you are still mad as shit, so the arguing continues 📲

THEMES. Both of you are seeing red. Everyone is established!relationship except sunoo. Lots of cursing, it’s giving toxic ngl …

AUTHORS NOTE. So…wow. This hurt. Literally got inspired to write this after watching a compilation of jungwon being strict with the members, (and also having a lot of pent of emotions) and was like" i know he's nastyyyyyy in an argument, we'd definitely get into it real good" Imfaooooo. I'll definitely do a part two to this where you all can actually make up because after this, you're gonna need it :). Tell me who pissed you off the most

[janicekao]

Kryptonite

Pairing: Bo Chow x Black oc Summary: Bo Chow struggles to navigate through life being newly divorced from his wife, Grace. But a particular young woman who shops in his colored's only store has his nose wide opened and thinking that jumping back into the dating pool might not be so bad after all.

Warnings:#Sinners #JimCrowEra #TimePiece #1932 #NoVampires #Black!OC #AgeGap #OCisBratty #OCisAnnoying #OCisSlutty #LoveAffair #Spying #Stalking #RoughS3x #Coercion #CümW3aring #FanFiction #Smut #18+ #IDEK #BarelyProofRead #ItriedLol #NotManyImages

4k words Wattpad link Enjoy my babies<3 ---------------------

Bo Chow and his wife Grace own two grocery stores in the middle of Clarksdale, Mississippi. On one side of the street is a mart for white's only, and the other is colored's only. Between Bo, his wife, and their daughter Lisa, they separate through the day to have equal man-power in each store. Today, Bo restocks the colored store knowing that most of his black customers are sharecroppers who get paid at the end of the week, meaning that today (Tuesday) won't be very busy with shoppers, being that they are hard at work and haven't been paid yet. While Grace and Lisa service the whites store being that it's pretty much busy at all hours of the week.

They always feared that this partnership they have in running two businesses would soon split them apart— afraid that the separation during the day would also separate them at night... And being that Grace presented divorce papers to Bo only a few months ago, it seems that they spoke the separation into existence.

Is it possible to just fall out of love after so many years? Guess so, being that it is exactly what happened. After living such separate lives and hardly seeing each other in the day, it was like the Chows came home at night to strangers instead of their spouses. Although a failed marriage is never something to celebrate, one thing Bo and Grace Chow always know how to do is be great partners and parents to Lisa... Now with the divorce in motion, Bo has the opportunity to reach out to further places with his business skills. Soon he'll have more stores open across the country now that he's able to spread his wings. The plan is to open more stores and make enough money to take their very bright daughter out of the south. They always have hoped to take Lisa somewhere up north where she can get the best education and she'll never have to look back at Clarksdale again, and although it's taking a major sacrifice, at least the plan is finally in motion.

With divorce comes many changes. Thirty-four year old Bo Chow who has been married since he was fifteen has to learn how to be a single man again... and boy does it have his nose wide opened. From flirty exchanges, staying out at juke joints all night with friends, and jumping back into the dating pool, Bo can't help but to have his eyes on one girl in particular. Misses Ada Mae James. A girl so fine that Bo Chow is convinced she shits flowers and pisses lemonade. From her magnificent curves to her million-watt smile, Bo swoons for Ada like he's never been enchanted by a woman before.

He'd be lying if he said that he never took notice to Ada beforehand, he's only a man and he isn't a blind man at that. But to respect his wife and their two-decade long marriage, he knew it was always best to never stare for very long. But now that he's a free man, Ada James has quickly become Bo Chow's kryptonite— the only thing that can weaken the proud and loving family man with her lewd charm, cruel wit, and nonchalant ways of stringing him along like a dog on a leash.

As Bo continues to stack jars of pickled-eggs behind the counter, a gust of wind and the sound of his door chimes alarm his sixth sense— her presence is so strong to him that he knows each time when it's Ada James walking into his shop.

Gently turning to welcome her inside, they both stare without a word. So much to say, yet so little courage. Ava taunts him with her presence, not actually needing any groceries, she knows that this very moment is the best time to come and pick with his brain.

Bo hates that he can barely breathe— barely move around her. It's more than just a feeling of being hypnotized, but it's also his guilt about what recently had occurred. Guilty from the fact that since what happened the night before, Bo now knows every inch of her body, every strain of hair on her mound, and the way her knees shake when she's blinded by pleasure, all because he's seen it with his own two eyes... a secret between them that needs to continue to go unspoken.

Ada slowly struts through the colored's only grocery store with an unwavering stare at Bo Chow, she wears a dress far too shapely and short to be alone somewhere with a man and Ada knows this. Her hips sway with each step as she robs Bo Chow blind each second— stealing pieces of licorice and lemon drops, knowing that Bo won't say a word about it if it makes her happy.

He watches her in return as if she were a piece of the sweetest saltwater taffy. His mouth waters for her each second he lays eyes on her. Bo clears his throat, "did your mother send you with a list today?"

Never blinking, she refuses to respond. Ada opens the icebox, lifting a carton of eggs, and dropping them to the wooden floors of the store.

"Alright Ada James, that's twenty-five cent plus clean up and I know you ain't got the money for it." Being tested each second, Bo's nostrils widen as his chest pumps with angered breaths.

He places his veined-hardworking hands on his waist, "can I help you with something or not?"

Becoming a wasteful brat once more, Ada lifts a glass bottle of fresh milk from the icebox next... once again dropping it to ground as it shatters beside the mess of broken eggs. "Oops."

Bo huffs, immediately locking the front door and flipping the sign on the window to 'store closed.' "Back room—" he snatches her arm. "Now."

Caught by the bicep, Ada struggles to be released from Bo's powerful grip that has her nearing her tiptoes as she's pulled to the back of the store.

The back room is as much privacy as they're able to get although only hidden by a few shelves and saloon style-double doors that continuously flap open as they enter inside the room full of boxes. Ada finally retrieves her arm, snatching away with all her might as Bo towers over her with tensed muscles appearing beneath his rolled up sleeves. "Damn it Ada if you've come here to start some shit today—" his finger is pointed sternly at her face yet his focus is taken as Ada lifts her dress, revealing everything her mama gave her.

He gulps, "you're just— walking 'round all of Clarksdale with no panties on?"

"Not all of Clarksdale." She bites her lip, "just to Bo Chow's store."

On the type of time and energy of a demon, Ada takes his hand and slowly presses it between her legs... She waits for Bo Chow to pull away, but he doesn't, instead he becomes familiar with the heat and slip that has already taken over her womanhood.

Ada Mae James indeed came to start some shit today, but not with the store— with the owner Bo Chow only.

Sensitive to his touch, Bo can't imagine how long she's been like this. How long has he been on her mind to the point of having her buck and glide her cunt across his bare hand?

Ada directs his hand that now glistens with her juices to his face, assuring that Bo Chow not only smells her essence but tastes it as well. His eyes flutter shut, rolling into the back of his skull as he inhales the scent of Ada's lingering fresh rose bath water, a bit of salty Mississippi sweat, and the head spinning intoxicating effect of tasting her arousal.

She lowers her dress, lowering her eyes as well. "The next taste will have to be from the source, Mr. Bo Chow." She hints towards having him eat her pussy. Ada steps closer and lays a hand on his chest, so close that she breathes into his lips and Bo struggles not to kiss her. "Ada, look, if we had only met before I married—"

"We are nine years apart Bo, there wasn't a chance to meet beforehand because I would've only been a girl." Breath sweet from stolen candy, her lips are like magnets as Bo tries his hardest not to chase after them. Her seduction continues, "but right now I'm all woman and I want you. Just kiss me, you know your wife's at the other store."

"She'd kick both of our asses if she knew what you were up to."

"It would be worth it." Ada persuades. "And what do you care? The rumor has it that the Chows are over. There's one attorney in this town and apparently he's doing your divorce."

"So much for client confidentiality." He scoffs, tearing Ada's hands from his chest. "You still don't know what you're talking about. Grace and I are separating for the benefit of our daughter. Running the grocery stores aint what it used to be, I gotta travel out of the south to make more dollars to send babygirl to a nice college."

"Oh— extra dollars?" She taunts. "Is that what Grace Chow is looking for while mending the register at the white's only grocery store? Ya know, batting her eyes and hinting to the white men what a lil Asian persuasion is like?"

"She is!?" He nearly falls for it. "Shut up, Ada. You're just trying to get a rise out of me."

"Oh honey, I already have." Making light of the monumental hard on in his pants, Ada's eyes lower towards its direction. She laughs. "Look at you Bo Chow, still getting jealous over your wife, wanting your cake and eating it too. You can't have both."

He struggles to keep up with her mind games. "What do you want Ada?"

"You." Her answer is extremely clear.

On his way to deny the young girl some more, Bo finds himself licking his lips— still chasing after her taste hoping that it's still somewhere on his lip. "I just can't."

She notices his dilated pupils and tongue still searching the corners of his mouth for another sample of her pussy. "No? then why do you always stare at me for a bit too long, why do you pitch a tent in your pants when my perfume blows in your direction, why are you my bedroom window's favorite audience?"

...

Fuck.

The night before.

Bo freezes, nearly panicking and wondering if she remembers. He was so drunk after the juke last night that he had hoped it was all just a dream of how feral he had behaved at her window.

On his way home from drinking each night, he has to pass the James' family residence. He spotted Ada once before through the window, placing hair-rollers in hair before bed, and ever since then he's known exactly which room is hers. Bo likes to blame it on having too much whiskey being the reason he peeps through her window each time he walks by their house, but deep down he knows that he's always hoping to catch her at her vanity, undressing, or even spend just a moment in time to watch her sleep... but last night— last night was the moment his peeping-tom eyes refused to unglue from her windowpane.

"Tell me Bo, why did you linger at my window so long last night?" Ada drives him mad with nerves as she presses him further, so close that her bountiful bosom mashes against his tight muscles. "Was it the flame flicker of my candle that you thought was soo interesting? Or could it have been watching me play with my pussy?"

"I didn't watch!" He exclaims.

"You did, and you hardly could see." She makes him gulp and tense as the memories flood him. "The room was so dimly lit, so you had the nerve to squint and cuff your hands against the glass to take an even closer peak. You pressed your weight so hard against that glass to see inside that I thought that it would break."

He refuses once more and is immediately interrupted. "I didn't—"

"You stayed until I came."

"Stop." Holding his breath and trembling so terribly, Bo exhales to breathe in once again. Everything she says is so very true. Bo Chow watched her body arch off of the mattress each time she plunged her fingers into her core, the dimly lit candle in her room was just enough to see everything he needed— to see the curve of her digits as they drove into her heat and returned glistening with her satisfaction. He pressed against the window harder because not only did he want to see better, but he needed to hear her sweet whimpers. He had dreamed of her sounds every night since he could remember and he finally had the opportunity to hear them, he couldn't restrain himself. Ada knew of his watching and put on a show just for him. It was as if she knew just when he had a whiskey too many and would be on his way home. He nearly drooled at the sight of Ada tweaking her brown nipples and bucking at her own caress because her body felt as if it were on fire. He had wished to be inside to cool it— to ease her flames, just to enlighten them all over again. He watched for a half an hour, tugging his cock in his fist as he watched her touch herself, sure that the dirt and flowers against their house would be stained with traces of his spend come morning. Her fingers— he had wished them to be his digits, his tongue, his cock! He hated that when she finally climaxed and her knees began to shake, her fingers leaving her core left her empty. Bo wished with everything that he had that Ada Mae was filled with his seed instead, something that would keep her sated and stuffed until he would fuck her and do it all over again.

"I whispered your name when I came, could you hear it Bo? As focused as you were while watching me I know you at least read it off of my lips." Ada continues to pain him with a taunting chuckle, now beginning to ache in his trousers as they reminisce.

"I said stop!" Anger, embarrassment, and guilt eats away at him. He grabs hold of Ada and slams her against the shelves behind them.

Her gasp ends in a breathy moan. It's what she wants— what she craves. "Please— just like that." She begs to be manhandled.

"You're crazy. Like this?" A look of disgust crosses his expression. Bo can literally feel the pressure he is pushing her body with, the same cruel restraint he'd put on someone who tried to rob the store. He softens his grasp on her. "You're just looking for a man to make free use of your body."

"Yes, you." She admits. "Until the point of having bruises on my tender flesh. Injuries to run my fingertips across and be reminded of you with goosebumps all day long, Bo Chow."

Temptation is a demon on his back. His eyes lower half-lidded with lust, knowing that a rough fuck with Ada could release so much of his recent stress and tension. "Your body would ache."

"God, it already does." Her brown doe eyes glass over with the need to be absolutely pummeled.

He shakes his head, trying desperately to restrain himself. "Why are you doing this to me? Out of any other married man you could terrorize with your philandering you choose me?"

"I want you, Bo."

"Your folks won't even let you out the house at night, and they damn sure wouldn't let me have you." He reminds Ada of her strict household, twenty-five years old yet her parents have eyes on her like a hawk, making her even more sexually aggressive around men when she's finally free of her family. "Listen, I heard all about the arrangement. I know that they want you to marry the preacher's son... you and Sammie."

"Don't want Sammie, want you." Ada nearly pouts, grinding the crotch of her dress against Bo's clothed erection just for some type of relief.

"We are both unavailable."

"It makes it all the better." She insists, "I can have you Bo, every day in this shop at a scheduled time."

"Everyday?" He questions. "You want this to turn into a habit?"

"No, but trust that you will." Ada kisses him, finally connecting to his lips as Bo's eyes flutter shut.

Their tongue kiss is as good as he always knew it would be, they could stand here and kiss for hours and he would cum five times, but it wouldn't be enough for his needy new lover. "Goddamnit Bo, I'm so on edge!" Out of patience and bratty, she's willing to blow this whole situation up if she doesn't get her nut in the next few minutes. "Tell me yes baby, say it before I make a fucking scene."

"Yes, Ada." Bo continues to lose himself in her soft lips. "Let me feel you baby."

He pulls her closer, arms doubling at her waist as his hands roam up her back and the curve of her ass. His kisses become lewd love bites against her neck and chest as his fingertips unbutton the front of her dress to collect more of her spillage against his tongue. His tongue lolls at the hardened buds of her breasts, soaking her body in his spit as his fingers retrieve from her pussy soaked and webbing in her mess of arousal.

Bo turns Ada around, bending her back and arching it as he lifts her skirt for back shots. He exhales a near groan as a devilish smirk curls at his lips. His hands cup her ass, splitting her apart for all there is to see as he bends to kiss her back dimples. He takes off his apron and frees himself from the zipper of his trousers, he goes to pump his cock in his fist yet he already pulses with an overly sensitive erection. With blood rushing to the tip of his cock, he nearly curls over as he slides once through her folds to lubricate himself. He pushes forward once more and compliments the slip. "S'fucking wet for me— damnit, Ada." His next slip forward, breaches her entry, watching the band of her cunt accommodate his thick size.

Ada's teeth nearly go through her lip the way that she clamps down so hard. "Mmmf! Please Bo—more." He doesn't hesitate to sheathe himself to her hilt, tasting ecstasy as Ada takes his every inch.

"Ah, fuck." He hisses in disbelief, setting a slow rhythm that builds with each power-drive in and out of her cunt.

Bo watches her pussy grip him and mold against his cock as if she were made for it, he glistens with Ada's cream each time he pulls out and becomes dazed by the sound of their sloshing as he pushes back in. His hands become a ferocious grip on her hips, not allowing her to run and to take each devastating inch that drags against her walls until he is snug, balls deep against her cunt.

Ada's fingers dig deeply into the steal grates of the shelf she folds against and every curl in her hair has been fucked out— gyrated and sweated as she allows Bo's free use of her body. He lifts one of her deliciously thick thighs, placing her high-heeled foot on the lowest tier of the shelf, having his strokes dig deeper now at a different angle that leaves her jaw unhinged and at a loss for words as her moans come out in silent mouse squeaks.

The knocking against her cervix makes her vision dot with stars, Ada reaches backwards to ease his strokes and her arm is painfully twisted up her back as if she were being arrested as Bo's pounding heightens even more. "Shit Bo, you're killing me!" Her words are gritted through her teeth, but it's exactly what she asked for. His jaw clenches with a look of fierce possession staining his face. "Take it."

She does, fucking him back and clapping against his steel thighs as she rises to meet his urgent thrust. Her dress has become nothing but wrinkles in his white-knuckled fist. Precum mixing with her cream as Bo holds out as long as he can, breathing becoming ragged and uneven as Ada's pussy continues to clench into a vice around his shaft.

Her moment of release quickly becomes Bo's favorite tune, the age-old rhythm instantly taking over Ada as she is blindly forced over the edge.

They share a moan as her orgasm is more of a treat for them both, Bo slows the strokes with a grab to her throat, forcing her back against his chest as he paces himself with deep upward strokes.

The plunging hot penetration has Ada cock-drunk, grinning in pure passionate ecstasy as she feels her lover become a frenzied mess behind her. "You feel so good Ada— God, baby, this pussy is mine."

She nods. "Yours."

Bo's arms wrap around her body, his rough hands cup her breasts until they are dimpled with bruises. He fucks her with a goal of his own climax, tempo beginning to speed sporadically as he slams up into her battered cunt without moral compass.

As Ada feels the spear splitting her apart begin to tense and spasm, she recognizes his near finish. "Time it right, Bo."

Without even one thought of ever pulling out of this fantastic pussy, he nearly trips over his own words. "What? W-Why?"

"You're thirty-four with a teenage daughter, clearly you fire with loaded bullets, and I don't want one."

His hot white burst comes like an embalming injection, forcing him to pull out instantly and paint the outside of her mound like icing on a cake. Groaning as each rope of cum feels like it's taking years off of his life.

His cock glistens with evidence of his and Ada's shared pleasure. He's become so hooked on the pussy, he even pleads for more. "Wasn't enough, I need to fill you." Growing flaccid for less than a second, he returns to an erection standing at attention and being directed up his chiseled abdomen.

"You sure change your mind quickly Bo Chow." Ada teases, "first you refuse me and now you can't get enough?"

"Don't patronize me." His jaw ticks with annoyance, yet he fiends for whatever else Ada has. "But yes, I know."

Bo's wide hand and long fingers haven't left her flesh since, claiming what's his as he caresses her face and keeps a tender grip around her soft throat. He pulls Ada against his body, tongue kissing her with all his passion as he pushes her legs apart— preparing to fuck her this time in missionary with her legs tied around his waist.

"I tell you what—" Ada slows him down, lightly gasping in air as she takes notice to the gentle bucking and his hard cock gliding through her swollen folds again. "I heard your family is staying here to take care of the businesses while you travel to Chicago with the Smoke-Stack twins looking to make more money to send back home."

Close to lining his cockhead with her entry, Bo pauses. "You heard about that too?"

"I wasn't very far when I eavesdropped on the conversation you had with Smoke." Ada closes her legs, leaving him blue-balled and opened to hearing her. "I want in. I want to go with you."

Leaving with Bo Chow is the freedom she can finally get from her strict parents, spreading her wings with the man she wants instead of the man they have picked for her. But Bo is unsure about jumping head first into another relationship after the marriage he just finished ended only recently.

Ada holds power over Bo now and she knows it. So pussy-whipped that denying her feels almost impossible when the best sex he's ever had can be dangled right over his head. "Take me to Chicago, give me a life with you, and you can fill any hole of mine that you want." Her scant promise nearly makes Bo dizzy.

With a cock still throbbing and wanting more of the girl he has been lusting over for so long, he finally agrees. "Pack your bags, we leave tomorrow."

[a-spicy-reader]

Birthday Sex

SINOPSE

Jaehyun comes back from the military on his birthday. And he’s not expecting just any kind of celebration.

WC: ~3k

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

☆ Warnings: established couple, slow burn tension, oral (f ︎ m, m ︎ f), rough sex, dirty talk, multiple positions, creampie, praise & possessive kink, uniform kink, facial expressions kink, deep emotional aftercare, explicit language, intense sensuality, crying during sex, soft domination

English is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes

(This is the longest text I've ever written, that's why it took so long 😅😅 I think it's also the dirtiest, that's why I had to be cute at the end, a little embarrassed too 😬😬😬)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jaehyun:

"I left the barracks. I'll be there in 40 minutes. Open the door when I knock. And wear something that drives me crazy. I want you as soon as I get in."

Nayara read the message with trembling fingers.

It was his birthday. But the one who was about to receive a gift was her.

Forty minutes later, the sound of the knock on the door froze her. Three firm knocks. She opened it without thinking. He was there.

In full uniform. Closed jacket. Hair shaved on the sides, heavy expression. But when he saw her, something in him softened. For a second, the soldier gave way to the man who spent nights dreaming about that moment.

He pulled her slowly. His arms wrapped around her waist and Nayara buried her face in his chest. The rough fabric of the uniform contrasted with the heat of the body underneath. He kissed the top of her head. Then, her face. Her forehead. Her nose.

And then her mouth.

It was a long kiss. Calm at first, but full of longing. His tongue found hers as if he were quenching his thirst. An old thirst. His body pressed against hers, his weight, his scent, everything about him dominated her effortlessly.

"You have no idea what went through my head in these six months," he whispered against her mouth. "And now that I'm here, you're mine. Whole. Without pause."

He rested his forehead against hers for a moment. His breath was warm. His hands running down Nayara's back, lightly squeezing her waist, her ass, as if he were confirming that it was real.

"Show me that you still know how to give me what's mine."

Nayara knelt down.

It was natural. Instinctive. The position her body asked for, the surrender her desire begged for.

He looked down, his eyes darkening with pleasure.

"Good girl."

Jaehyun slowly unbuckled his belt, without taking off his uniform. He opened his pants just enough and pulled out his cock, already hard, thick, throbbing. Nayara looked at him as she ran her tongue over his lips, then over the tip, slowly. She tasted him. Warm, familiar, intoxicating.

She wrapped her lips around it and began to suck.

Slowly at first, just her mouth working, exploring. He let out a muffled moan, his hand in her hair, guiding her movements.

"That's it… fuck. Like that…"

She increased the pace. Warm mouth, tongue circling, sucking harder. He threw his head back for a second. His hips began to move, thrusting deeper into her throat.

"Look at me," he ordered. Nayara obeyed, her eyes watering, but fixed on his.

He held her head steady. He began to fuck her mouth with slow, deep thrusts. His other hand went to her face, his thumb running over the corner of her mouth, wiping away the drool that was dripping down.

"Fuck, I missed this so much," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "You like this… on your knees, swallowing everything… like you were born for it."

Nayara moaned with him deep in her throat. He felt it. He freaked out. The pressure increased. His control was gone.

He was thrusting hard now, holding her head steady, fucking her mouth like it was the only way to relieve six months of accumulated tension.

But before he could cum, he stopped. He pulled Nayara back by her hair, her breathing ragged and her eyes wild.

"Turn around. Now. I want to fuck you with this uniform on my body. And with your mouth still dirty with me."

He pulled Nayara by her hair with calculated strength, her breathing still heavy from what it almost was. Her eyes wild, hungry.

He guided her to the sofa with firm steps, without taking his eyes off the body he had desired for six months.

He threw her there as if she were his — and she was.

“On all fours,” he ordered. “Cross your legs.”

She obeyed without hesitation. Leaning on her elbows, with her knees together and her legs crossed, just like he wanted. The position made her even tighter, more sensitive. And he knew it. Fuck, how he knew.

Jaehyun knelt behind her. His uniform still intact, his boots firmly on the floor. Nayara heard the sound of his pants opening further, his breathing heavy… and then — his tongue.

Without warning.

He dove between her legs like an animal on the loose. His tongue licked, entered, circled violently. Without subtlety. Without care. He ate her with his mouth as if he were trying to destroy every trace of longing that remained between them.

“Stay like this,” he growled against her flesh. “So tight, just the way I like it.” His hands spread her buttocks forcefully, exposing everything. Nayara moaned loudly. He just stuck his tongue deeper. And sucked. He sucked as if he was addicted to her. As if he wanted to make her cum just to see her trembling for him.

When she squirmed too much, he held her tight. He bit her. He gave her ass quick slaps. He made sure to keep her there, crossed, vulnerable, completely exposed.

"Are you going to cum like this? Just with my tongue? Six months and it's still this easy?"

Nayara could barely answer. She just moaned, gasped, begged.

"Tell me. Tell me it's my pussy. That no one else has touched."

"It's yours… only yours, Jaehyun… it always has been!"

He sucked harder. His tongue vibrated on her clit with rhythm and pressure, his fingers sliding inside, filling her and fucking her along with his mouth.

And Nayara exploded.

The orgasm came tearing through her. Strong. Hot. Almost painful. She screamed, her whole body shaking, her crossed legs tightening instinctively.

But he didn't stop.

He kept licking, sucking, fucking her with his fingers. He wanted more. He wanted to see her cum again. He wanted to leave her out of control, lost, torn to pieces.

And when she tried to run away, he just pulled Nayara back by the waist.

"Don't run away. I've waited six months. You'll handle it all."

She was still shaking from the orgasm, her body arched, her legs crossed as he'd told her to. But Jaehyun wasn't even close to satisfied.

He stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his gaze full of fire.

"Stay like that."

Without breaking the mood, he opened his pants further, without taking anything off. He just left his cock free, hard, throbbing. His uniform hung open, but he was still wearing everything—and that only made everything dirtier.

He spat on his hand, spread it around his base, and knelt behind her.

With one hand firmly on Nayara's waist and the other on her braids, he pulled her head back as the tip of his cock touched her hot, throbbing entrance.

"I'm going to fuck you until you forget your name."

And he did.

Deep. All at once. Without mercy.

She screamed. The sound was muffled by his hand that covered her mouth next.

"Shhh… you're going to wake the neighbors. Or do you want everyone to know that you're being fucked by your man in uniform, on the couch?"

The thrusts came hard, heavy. He pounded his entire body, each movement making the couch creak. His hand held Nayara's hips, pulling her against his thrusts brutally. The sound of their bodies colliding was loud, wet, animalistic.

— You're mine. Mine. Do you understand?

— Yes, fuck, only yours!

He pulled her braids hard, bending her spine, making Nayara look back while he fucked her. His eyes were wild. His uniform was sweaty. His face was red with tension.

He spat on her ass, ran his finger, threatened to put it in.

— You can handle it, right? You like it when I'm like this. Rough. No mercy.

And she moaned even more. She begged. She pleaded.

He threw her sideways on the couch, lifted one leg on his shoulder and thrust again. The new angle made him hit her hard. Nayara felt everything. And he moaned along with her — low, hoarse, as if he was fighting himself.

— You're going to cum again for me — he growled. — Now. Come with me.

And she came.

The second time was even stronger. Her body locked up, her chest heaving, her legs shaking.

Jaehyun thrust a few more times, his movements becoming uncoordinated. He grunted deeply, dug his nails into her skin and came hard — deep inside, with her entire body trembling on top of his.

The silence afterward was heavy. They were both panting. Sweaty. Exhausted.

But he hadn't taken off his uniform yet. And Nayara knew: it wasn't going to stop there.

Without needing to say anything, he fell on top of her, his sweaty chest pressed against Nayara's back. Their bodies were still pulsating, shaking. His uniform stuck to their skin — and the heat between them seemed to set the room on fire.

She turned her face and smiled, with that glint of challenge in her eyes.

"First round… and you're already like this?"

He laughed. That low, hoarse laugh that made the hairs on her body stand on end.

“You don’t know what I brought in my backpack.”

And then the second round began…

She turned her face and smiled, with that glint of challenge in her eyes.

“First round… and you’re already like this?”

He laughed. That low, hoarse laugh that made the hairs on her body stand on end.

“You don’t know what I brought in my backpack.”

Still panting, he got up from the couch. He slowly took off his jacket, then his t-shirt. His body was pure muscle and training marks—thick thighs, tense arms, sweat running down between the abs. Nayara watched him silently, biting her lip.

Without rushing, Jaehyun crouched down next to the backpack thrown on the floor and opened it. He took out two items: a small, discreet vibrator and a thick, black cock ring. He left them on the couch as if he knew exactly what he was going to do with each one.

“I thought about you every time I jerked off,” he said directly, his voice deep. “And I bought this thinking about when I came back. Now that I’m here… you’re going to feel everything.”

Nayara was already lying down again, her legs spread, her body alert, her breathing lighter — but full of expectation. Her wide thighs shone with desire, her pussy still wet, throbbing.

“Come on, then. Show me.”

Jaehyun didn’t need more. He knelt between her legs and, with his eyes fixed on hers, put the ring on the base of his cock, which was already half erect — but began to harden completely just looking at Nayara there, open, surrendered.

He turned on the vibrator. He first touched the inside of her thighs. Nayara shivered all over. She moaned softly, instinctively.

— Not directly on the clitoris… Jaehyun…

— Shhh. Now it's my way.

Firmly, he slid the vibrator to the center, circling her clitoris with slow and continuous pressure. His fingers began to slide inside, slowly, feeling how hot and ready she was. Nayara was moaning loudly now, her whole body responding to each touch. The vibrator was vibrating in the exact spot. He knew what he was doing.

She came again. A lighter orgasm, more sensitive, but still hot and pulsating. Her body writhed beneath him. Jaehyun smiled, climbed on top of her, fitted his cock between her legs and thrust slowly — with the ring vibrating along with it, intensifying each sensation.

— Fuck, Nayara… you squeeze me in a way…

They moaned together now. The rhythm was more controlled, the movements precise, but the pleasure multiplied. The ring vibrated at the base. The vibrator still teased her clitoris. And Nayara was already at her limit again.

“Get on top,” he asked, his voice choked, as if he couldn’t take it anymore.

She rode him firmly, her hands on his chest, shaking her hips hard. Her ass slapped against his thighs with dry pops. The vibrator, now stuck between them, was still on, and he almost screamed with the double stimulation.

“Go on… Nay… fuck me like that. That’s it, fuck!”

She leaned forward and bit his shoulder. Her nails scratched his abdomen. They were both sweaty, glued together, wild. Their bodies fit together perfectly.

And then, finally, they came together.

Trembling. No sound. Just ragged breathing, eyes closed, bodies collapsing.

Silence.

Then, only the click of the vibrator being turned off… and her muffled laughter, pressed against his ear.

Nayara got off the couch, limping slightly. Her legs were shaking. Her skin was still vibrating. She was walking towards the bathroom, trying to find some balance, when she felt the weight of his gaze.

She turned slowly.

Jaehyun was still lying on the couch, his chest rising and falling slowly, his muscles relaxed, but his eyes fixed on her — hungry.

His body seemed exhausted… but his cock was still hard, erect between his thighs, as if saying everything he didn't have the strength to say yet.

She arched an eyebrow.

"Are you going again?"

He didn't answer. He took a step. Then another. Until his body was pressed against hers. Without hesitation, he ran his hand over her face, then down her throat, until he held the back of her neck firmly.

"Shut up and lie down on the bed. Legs open. Hands up."

His voice left no room for discussion. It wasn't a suggestion. It was a command.

Nayara's body reacted before her mind. She turned over without saying anything, the air already starting to heat up again. She climbed onto the bed, lay down in the center of the mattress, and did exactly what he told her to do. Her body was limp, exhausted, but her desire was reignited like a fire on damp wood. Her thighs were throbbing. Her pussy was starting to throb with just the anticipation.

Jaehyun came in right after. The same look as before — focused, hungry, full of possession. He brought the vibrator out again. And something else: a Velcro handcuff that she didn't even know he had brought with him.

"I want you to surrender, Nay. No escape. You'll cum until you beg me to stop." She smiled mischievously. Defiant, even when she was on edge.

"I doubt it."

Jaehyun climbed onto the bed slowly. He pinned her wrists together, above her head, using the headboard as support. He turned on the vibrator and placed it between her legs — without touching her clitoris directly, just teasing, prodding the edges of desperation.

Meanwhile, he masturbated slowly. His cock grew once more. Firm. Throbbing. His jaw clenched. His chest heaving as if he already anticipated what was coming.

—Look how my cock gets just seeing your pussy open.

She moaned. Her legs tried to close reflexively, but he used his knee to force them open. More. And more.

And then, he thrust.

All at once. Without warning. Without relief. Without time to breathe.

She screamed, her body arching. He thrust deep, hard. The vibrator was still stuck between them, pressing against her clitoris with each thrust. The cock ring still vibrated at the base, keeping it rigid. Intensifying everything.

Her eyes rolled back.

— DON'T STOP, JAEEEH—

He covered her mouth with his big, warm hand.

— Shhh. I'm far from stopping.

He pulled out and put it back in again. He pulled out slowly, then went back in with everything. Deeper. Faster. Nayara screamed through her eyes, her whole body trying to escape and beg at the same time. But he kept her there. Surrendered. Completely surrendered.

Her hands tied. Her soul wide open.

He bit her shoulder. He slapped her ass, pulled her hair, cursed softly with a choked voice.

— Holy shit… you were born for this. To be fucked by me. All over. Until you passed out.

And she came.

Hardly. Almost painfully. Her whole body trembled. . And he kept going. Relentless.

She couldn't speak anymore. Her hands were numb, her arms pinned above her head, her body sweaty, vibrating, begging for the end and for more at the same time.

Jaehyun thrust like a man on the edge of control. His thrusts hit deep, more intense and desperate. The vibrator was still vibrating between them. And Nayara was crying.

Tears streamed from her eyes — not from pain, but from overwhelming pleasure. Pleasure that her body didn't know how to contain.

And he saw it.

"Are you crying for me, love?" he whispered, his voice cracking with lust. "You're feeling everything, right? You're squeezing me so tight… fuck…"

His cock was throbbing. Nayara was wrapping herself around him so tightly that he could barely move.

"You're going to make me cum inside you. You want it, right? You want me to explode inside you."

All she could do was moan and shake her head, her face sweaty, her eyes wet.

That's when he bit down.

With his hand firmly holding her hip, he bent over and bit her shoulder hard — marking it, as if he wanted her to remember that moment for the rest of her life.

And then he came.

Jaehyun locked his entire body. A hoarse grunt came from his throat. His cock exploded inside her in hot, strong, endless jets. He came deep, feeling Nayara tighten even more with each contraction, as if her body was sucking every drop.

"That's it… fuck, Nayara… swallow it all… everything… fuck…"

The hot jets hitting the bottom. The heat invading. Her thighs trembling. Her body collapsing along with his.

He stayed inside her for a few seconds, still pulsing, still moaning softly in her ear. Their bodies stuck together, wet, panting.

When he finally pulled out, his cock slipped out slowly, glistening with cum. He saw it — cum began to leak out of her, white, thick, hot, staining the sheets between her legs.

And he didn't accept it.

—No… no. This is yours.

With his fingers, he tried to push it all back in. Gently, but obsessively. As if it were more than just cum — as if it was part of him that he didn't want to escape.

Nayara moaned as she felt his touch, trying to hold back the cum.

— Stay with me — he murmured, looking straight into her eyes.

And then, he bent down and kissed her.

A slow, wet kiss

He let go of her hands. But Nayara didn't move.

She stayed there. Lying down. Destroyed

Jaehyun hugged her from behind, still on the bed.

— I love you so much, Nay.

She smiled, her eyes closed and her soul satisfied.

— Happy birthday, Jaehyun.

The room fell silent.

Just the sound of the fan spinning on the ceiling and her breathing slowing down little by little. Nayara still lying on her side, legs half open, her entire body relaxed and sensitive, her skin crawling where he hadn't even touched.

Jaehyun knelt beside the bed, his head resting on the mattress. He observed her body as if he couldn't believe she was real.

He got up slowly, went to the bathroom, wet a towel with warm water and came back.

“Stay still, love,” he said softly.

She didn’t answer. She only let out a sigh when she felt the warm touch between her legs.

Jaehyun cleaned her carefully. With reverence. He wiped the towel slowly, removing the traces of cum with care, without pressing. As if he were taking care of the most precious thing in the world. Every now and then, he gave her a kiss on her thigh. Or on her belly.

When he was done, he threw the towel in the basket and came back with one of his t-shirts. He dressed Nayara delicately, as if she were made of glass.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, fixing her hair with his fingers.

“Only you,” she murmured, with a lazy smile.

He laughed, but still took out his cell phone and ordered food. Then he lay down behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, his nose touching her neck.

They stayed like that. Glued together. In silence. His touch was different now — light, soft. A finger tracing invisible lines on her arm. A kiss on the back of her neck every minute.

“You drive me completely crazy, you know?” he said, his voice low. “When I was there… in the barracks… the only thing that kept me going was imagining you. Here. Waiting for me.”

She squeezed his hand between her fingers, her eyes still closed.

“And you came back. And you fucked me like the world was ending.”

“And after that, I just want to take care of you,” he whispered. “To bathe you, to feed you, to hold you in my arms. You are my love and my addiction.”

He kissed her shoulder. His breathing was already slower. And even so, his touch remained. Endless affection.

Jaehyun was no longer the soldier who arrived breaking everything. Now he was just the man. The boyfriend who cleaned. Cared. Loved.

A short time later, the intercom rang.

Jaehyun got up slowly, still naked, put on a pair of random shorts and went to the door to get the order. Nayara stayed in bed, lying on her side, just watching.

When he came back, he was carrying a tray with food and two glasses of juice. He balanced everything with that smile of someone who is completely surrendered.

"Time to replenish your energy, Mrs. Jeong," he said, blinking.

She laughed, sitting up with effort on the bed. His shirt was still half-up, his legs spread, red marks on his thighs. He helped her adjust the pillows, placed the tray on her lap, and sat next to her, close.

"You knew that fucking me like that would leave me without the strength to get up, right?"

"I knew. That was the plan," he said, laughing.

They ate slowly, sharing the food with each smile. With each bite, he made sure to put it in her mouth, as part of the care. She returned his gaze with warm glances, but the mood was different now — calm, intimate, almost sacred.

When they finished, he gathered everything up, left it in the kitchen and went back to the bedroom. Nayara was already lying down again, with her eyes closed. But she opened them when she felt his arms wrap around her legs.

“What’s up…?”

“You’re going to take a shower. And I’m going to take you.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Crazy about you.”

She smiled, surrendered.

In the bathroom, he sat her down on the shower bench. He turned on the warm water, adjusted the temperature and got in with her. He took the soap, lathered his hands and began to gently wash each part of her body.

First her shoulders. Then her neck. Her arms. Her chest. Her belly. Her thighs. And between her legs — with the utmost respect, but without stopping to smile at the memory of what they had just done there hours before.

She just sighed. Her eyes closed. Trusting. Giving himself over to the care.

Then he washed his own body quickly, turned off the shower and grabbed the towel. He dried Nayara as if she were the most precious thing in the world. Every curve. Every fold.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

“I do. Because you remind me of that all the time.”

He laughed, wrapped her in the towel and picked her up again.

In the bedroom, he slowly placed her on the bed, lay down on her side, and pulled the sheet over them both. Their legs intertwined naturally. Their breathing began to align.

In the darkness, with only the low light from the window, he caressed her back with his fingertips. And whispered:

“No matter how long I’m gone again… I’ll always come back to you. Always.”

She turned her face and pressed her lips against his chest.

"And I'll always be here. To be yours."

He kissed the top of her head.

And finally, they slept.

Exhausted and Satisfied.

[dynaloy]

Gong yoo | salesman x fem!reader

hot obsession

You've always been watching the salesman, intrigued by his coldness and beauty. One night he sees you and follows you to an alley, so many times you imagine him close to your body and finally you feel his touch but he shows you that he's always seen you watching.

As you observed him from afar, something shifted in the air. His gaze, once focused solely on the trembling players while he slapped one, flickered up and met yours. For a moment, time seemed to pause. The world around you grew fuzzy, and the only thing you could see was the knowing smirk that twisted the corner of his mouth. He'd caught you. You felt a strange mix of excitement and fear as he stepped away from the circle of light cast by the solitary street lamp and began to walk in your direction. Your legs threatened to give way, but you remained rooted to the spot, unable to look away from the predator approaching. The clack of his shoes on the pavement echoed through the alley, the sound of fate drawing closer with each step.

All you could focus on was the salesman, his tall figure casting a long shadow that grew as he approached. When he finally stopped in front of you, you had to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. They were like pools of black ink, swirling with secrets and dark promises. He said nothing, merely offered a single card to you—the one you'd been watching him play with all this time. Your hand trembled as you took it, feeling the weight of his stare as he stepped closer, his body heat an invasive force that seemed to melt the cold cobblestone beneath your feet.

Without a word, he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "You've been watching me, haven't you?" His voice was a whispered caress, a stark contrast to the harshness of his demeanor. "I've seen you, every night, hiding in the dark." His hand snaked around your wrist, gripping it firmly, guiding it to his chest. Your pulse raced, matching the tempo of his heartbeat. "Do you know what happens to those who are too curious, little rabbit?" His smile was cold, yet it sent a thrill through you. He knew you were there, he knew you were fascinated, and he was going to make you pay for it.

The alley grew colder as he pushed you against the rough brick wall, his body a wall of heat and danger. His free hand traced the line of your jaw, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip in a silent demand for a response. "I—I don't know," you stuttered, your voice barely audible. His grip tightened, his eyes narrowing. "But you're about to find out." And with that, he claimed your mouth in a bruising kiss, leaving you gasping for air and craving more. This was a game you hadn't anticipated playing with him, but as his tongue danced with yours, you realized you'd been yearning for this moment without even knowing it. The salesman had seen right through your facade of indifference, and now you were his to toy with, to win over, to conquer.

He released you from the kiss, his breath ragged and his eyes gleaming with a newfound hunger. "You want to know what it's like to win?" he murmured, his voice low and seductive. "To feel the rush of victory?" His hand slid down your body, his touch light but insistent. You nodded, unable to form coherent words, your mind a whirlwind of desire and trepidation. "Good," he said, "I'm going to show you just how much you've been underestimating me." His hand found the hem of your shirt, and with one swift motion, he lifted it over your head, his gaze never leaving yours.

The cold night air kissed your bare skin, sending goosebumps racing down your spine. Yet, his touch was anything but cold. It was fiery, possessive, leaving no part of you untouched by the flames of his desire. He traced the curve of your breasts, his thumbs brushing against your hardened nipples. A whimper escaped your lips, and he chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "You're trembling," he noted, his voice a dark purr. "Are you afraid, little rabbit?" He leaned in, his teeth grazing your neck, sending waves of pleasure-pain that had you arching into him. "You should be."

The alley became a cocoon of lust as he unbuckled your pants, sliding them down your legs, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. His hands roamed over your bare skin, leaving a trail of heat wherever they touched. You could feel the hardness of his erection pressing against you, demanding entry. Your heart hammered against your ribcage as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down with agonizing slowness. He stepped back, his eyes raking over your exposed flesh, and you felt a strange thrill knowing you were utterly at his mercy.

The salesman leaned in again, his mouth finding yours in a brutal kiss that stole what was left of your breath. His hand slipped between your legs, his fingers sliding through your wetness, teasing your clit with expert precision. You moaned, your body betraying your fear, begging for more. He chuckled again, the sound a dark symphony in the quiet of the night. "You're going to remember this," he whispered, his breath hot against your cheek. "Remember that I always win." And with that, he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them in a way that had your knees buckling. You clung to him, your body writhing against the wall, desperately seeking relief from the exquisite torture he inflicted. His other hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head back as he ravaged your neck, his teeth sinking into your flesh.

The alley spun around you, the world outside forgotten as he claimed your body. His thumb circled your clit, his fingers pumping into you with a rhythm that made your vision swim. The brick wall was cold against your bare back, the contrast with his burning touch making it feel like you were on fire. Your moans grew louder, echoing off the alley walls as you approached the precipice of climax. And just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he stopped, pulling away with a cruel smile. "Not yet," he said, his voice thick with need. "First, I want to hear you beg."

You whimpered, your eyes pleading with him. "Please," you gasped, your voice barely recognizable. "I need you." It was true; you'd never felt this alive, this consumed by another's touch. You have been imagining how was his touch while you would use your dildo but it was not even close to this reality. He smirked, his eyes gleaming with a dark triumph. "Say it," he demanded, his thumb stroking your swollen clit with maddening gentleness. "Beg me to let you come." You hated how much you wanted to give in to him, how much you needed his cruel game to end in sweet release.

But you didn't dare to disobey. "I—I beg you," you whispered, the words leaving your mouth with a sense of both humiliation and excitement. "Please, let me win." He chuckled, his teeth flashing in the moonlight. "Very well," he said, and with that, his hand resumed its relentless pace. You felt your orgasm building again, the pressure coiling tight in your core. This time, when it broke, it was like a dam bursting, a wave of pleasure that crashed over you and left you shuddering against the wall, your nails digging into the bricks.

As the tremors subsided, you slumped against the cold brick, panting and trembling. He stepped back, adjusting his own clothing with a sense of calm that seemed almost inhuman. "You've had your taste," he said, his voice now cold and detached. "But remember, in the grand scheme of things, this was just a warm-up." His eyes searched yours, looking for the understanding, the acceptance of your new role as his conquest. You nodded, your throat tight with a mix of fear and excitement.

He leaned in one last time, his mouth a mere breath from yours. "Next time," he murmured, "we play for keeps." With that, he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the alley until they were swallowed by the night. You stood there for a moment, trying to regain your composure, trying to understand what had just happened. But all you could think was that you couldn't wait for the next game to begin. You were hooked, and he knew it. The salesman had claimed you, marked you as his, and you were ready to face whatever twisted challenge he had in store, just for the chance to feel his touch again.

[thesafecafe]

For my Hongjoong stans!

I know you saw the Captain with that shot glass in his hand🤭I can only imagine what shenanigans he got into backstage. I have thoughts about it, ehehehe.

Hongjoong, still in his post show high, which is extremely high because it's Coachella, and still a little tipsy from the drink on stage and some celebratory shots after, and he sees you, his sweet little s/o, waiting by his dressing room. You, who always encouraged him and stayed by his side since he was a trainee, and always had his back, looking so sweet as you stand there with a huge bouquet of flowers for him. You jump up and down, waving when you see him, and he smirks.

Usually, he'd be a little emotional and sweet, but today he feels different. Today, he feels like living up to one of the names that Atiny calls him: a demon line member. And the way you look in your cute little Coachella outfit has him feeling particularly devilish. He wants to reciprocate the love that you never fail show him, and make sure you know just how he feels about you. He wants to absolutely devour you, ravaging you until the only word you can remember is his name and there are no thoughts in your head.

You, however, are none the wiser of the thoughts brewing in his head as you congratulate him and hand him the flowers, a bright smile on your face until he whispers in your ear: "save that energy, my Treasure. You'll need it."

(also tagging my fave Hongjoong biases, because I like making you suffer: @brownsugarbaybee , @hee0soo, @nateezfics )

[divinecrimson]

FCK ME EMO BOY! HAN TAESAN HC

Warnings: cum eating, mxf, cursing, piercings, music, degrading, praise, aftercare, smut, choking, slapping, rough sex, soft sex, pet names; mama, love, baby, good girl” bitch, whore, slut, loser taesan, simp behavior.

MDNI BELOW THE CUT ~|~ HEAD-CANNONS

Emoboy!taesan!; PT.2

Emoboy!taesan! Who loses himself inside you once you cum because he knows that now he has the green light to focus on himself and not the accurate thrusts he had been giving you. “F-fuck I’m gonna cum baby—“

Emoboy!taesan! Who gets his tongue and nipples pierced knowing what it’s going to do to you and allows you to try them all out once they are healed.

Emoboy!taesan! Who knows that you own him but doesn’t shy away from putting you in your place when you need it. “Stop fucking playing with me”- as he gives you such deep thrusts from behind while your in a headlock.

Emoboy!taesan! Who loves to eat a mix of your cum taking it as a reminder that you own every part of him both inside and out and of course he loves the taste.

Emoboy!taesan! Who degrades in such an evil way but knows when to make it worse. He will start of a little nicer and then get meaner as he fucks you. “Look at you. Can’t even take my cock.” - “such a nasty bitch for me hmm?” As he pounds you into the bed making sure to press down on your back.

Emoboy!taesan! Who loves to make you cum no matter from what it’s from if it’s his mouth, fingers, cock, and even toys he loves to make you cum. “So pretty when you cum for me baby”

Emoboy!taesan! Who knows how big his cock is so he gives you time to adjust but once you do he’s giving you slow deep strokes pressing down on your neck as your legs wrap around his hips making sure to change the amount of pressure he applies. “There we go…just take it love.”

Emoboy!taesan! Who loves when you ride him because the feeling of the entirety of your weight pressing his hips down into the mattress makes his eyes roll.

Emoboy!taesan! Loves to watch you run from his cock. He knows it means he’s making you feel too good to where you can’t handle it and his cock gets even harder. “Mama…just cum for me”

Emoboy!taesan! Loves nasty sex. Spitting in your mouth, making your squirt, spitting on your pussy, watching you drool on his cock, he just loves the way liquids look on your body it’s such a turn on for him.

Emoboy!taesan! Who will let you be in control whenever you want to unless he’s mad at you. “Oh you wanna ride me love? Okay do as you wish baby. Use me.”

Emoboy!taesan! Has brutal backshots. He will overstimulate himself focusing on beating your poor pussy up. He will watch your pussy suck up his big cock over and over forgetting to focus and he’ll slam into you after forgetting to keep a certain pace to not overwhelm you.

Emoboy!taesan! Who has a list of goals memorized for you. 1- find that spot, 2-make you cum two different ways, 3- switch it up. You never know what to expect for number three and that’s why you always cum so much he keeps it interesting and safe as well.

Emoboy!taesan! Who loves when you pull his hair. He likes feeling the way your nails grip his hair and the way you taste on his tongue as you do that makes him go crazy and he can’t help but to force and orgasm out of you. “S-shit-“

Emoboy!taesan! Who eyes sharpen before he fucks you like he switches from a loser simp to a daddy so fast that it’s hard to comprehend but he also will be a baby just for you.

Emoboy!taesan! Who has a playlist of all types of singers when he fucks you but sometimes if he wants to hear you scream he turns it off.

Emoboy!taesan! Who has your body and actions memorized to the point where you don’t need a safe word but he still has one for you incase he gets too lost inside your pussy.

Emoboy!taesan! Who always asks for consent even when he’s mad. He knows what it’s like to not want something and he makes sure your okay with what he wants to give you.

Emoboy!taesan! Who likes to slap your ass and tits as well as your pussy but even if you ever asked him to slap your face he wouldn’t not even just a little tap. It’s something he’ll never do.

Emoboy!taesan! Who will let you use him for your own pleasure. After all that is his first priority. How you feel always comes first to him. He will watch you ride him and he will even guide your hips in a circle or in all types of ways to get you to cum. “Say it’s yours.”

Emoboy!taesan! Who notices that when he hits that spot he teases you. He will feel his tip slam into it and mutter out “mmh mmh mmh” as if saying, I got you right where I want you now.

Emoboy!taesan! Who isn’t scared to moan. He will let you know when you feel super good which is always. He doesn’t care too much about his masculinity and even knows that it’s way hotter for a man to let out his moans so he knows you love it.

Emoboy!taesan! Who tries not to jerk off unless he’s away for periods of times because he knows once’s he’s back inside you he will feel even better from the lack of stimulation from not jerking off.

Pt.2??!?!

[panjakes]

Jake with Black!Reader who loves Pink!

Ever since Jake met you he knew you loved anything girly and anything pink. Hell the day he met you, you were wearing pink

🩷

The first time he came too your house to hang out he was honestly shocked at how overly pink your room was.

🩷

The room had white colored walls but everything else was different shades of pink. From poster, your curtains, your desk, your bed frame and bedding. You were really a pink girlie.

🩷

If Jake didn’t know anything about you…he knew you loved the color pink.

🩷

He always bought you things and made sure they were in some shade or form of pink.

“Hey do you have this shirt in pink? I don’t think my girlfriend will wear it if it isn’t pink.”

He even had this amazing idea to take you too a park and have a pink picnic with you. He had managed to get only pink snacks for the two of you to enjoy. He brought paint and other things for you two to do

“Babe! Look, I got you these heart shaped cakes with pink frosting!”

You getting excited over anything being pink just brought a smile to his face.

“Babe! Look at this wall clock! It’s so cute!” You say pointing too the pastel pink clock with tiny pink hearts on the inside.

Jake just smiles and indulges in your love for pink. If it’s pink and you want it, he’ll get it. No questions asked.

🩷

Being with you for so long and see you around so much pink makes him love the color himself. He loves when you dress in different shades of pink. The color made your darkskin pop and you looked absolutely beautiful, he loves it.

🩷

When he’s out with the guys and he sees something pink he’ll get it for you. Rather it be a headband, a pair of socks or something for your room. He. Gets. It.

🩷

Of course the guys all tease him about it but he couldn’t care less. His girlfriend loved pink and he loved his girlfriend.

“Look, he’s buying something else for Yn.” “Of course he is, it’s pink and she’s obsessed with color pink.” “Hey! I can hear you!”

Overall…pink is your favorite color and Jake is your enabler when it comes to the pretty color pink.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Partners-In-Crime

---

---

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: angst (like very substantial amount), fluff, happy ending

Category:F/M

Fandom: Seventeen (SVT), boyband

Relationships: !idol Mingyu x !idol f reader

Summary: In a whirlwind of fake dating to avoid breached contract lawsuit, Mingyu and Y/n navigate growing feelings, blurring lines between pretend and real.

Trope: Fake dating

---

Hiiiii everyone who is reading! Welcome to the ninth installment of my new mini series called "Oi! Not this again!" They do not have to be read together or in order! I hope you all enjoy!

I never really thought I’d find myself in this situation: fake dating one of the hottest idols in South Korea. Yet, here I am, sipping an iced caramel macchiato in a corner cafe, pretending that being next to Mingyu from SEVENTEEN is the most natural thing in the world. In reality, my heart is racing, and not in the good way.

“Y/N, could you, like, pretend to be happy?” Mingyu whispers through a tight smile, his voice barely audible over the ambient music and chatty customers. His dark eyes flicker with a mix of annoyance and desperation.

“I am happy,” I snap quietly, struggling to adjust the fake smile plastered on my face. “Well, as happy as I can be, considering I’m fake dating you.”

A little louder than intended, I notice a few heads turn our way. I can feel the pressure mounting. We’re supposed to be the doting couple everyone envies, yet the tension between us is thicker than the whipped cream on my drink.

His fingers drum impatiently on the table, the dull thud echoing my pounding heart. “This was your idea, remember? To throw off the media frenzy surrounding both of us.”

Sure, using the classic “fake dating” trope to divert media attention seemed brilliant in theory. We both had enough scandals and rumors hovering around us to last a lifetime. Pairing up would squash at least half of them.

Mingyu suddenly leans in, looking intently at the menu stuck between the salt and pepper shakers, but I know he isn’t paying attention to the array of overpriced sandwiches. “Y/N, if we don’t pull this off, Dispatch is going to have a field day. Again.”

I sigh, slumping back in my chair. “I know, I get it. But couldn’t we have found another way?”

He opens his mouth to argue but instead, a genuine laugh escapes his lips. “Like what? Publicly announce we’re focusing on our careers and ask for privacy?” The sarcasm in his voice isn’t lost on me.

“Okay, fair point.” I roll my eyes but can’t help a small smile. “So what’s the plan now, Mr. Perfect?”

His grip tightens on the table edge before he looks up with a smirk. “We’ve got a photoshoot tomorrow morning for a ‘couple’ branding campaign. We just need to act like we’re head-over-heels for each other, got it?”

I groan inwardly. Nothing like forced intimacy to kickstart a beautiful, fake relationship. “This is going to be a disaster.”

“Only if you make it one,” he teases, his smirk widening. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms smugly. “Or maybe you’re just afraid you’ll actually fall for my irresistible charm?”

I snort. “Keep dreaming, pretty boy.”

==

The next morning arrives faster than I’d like. The cosmetics studio is buzzing with activity. Staff members rush around, juggling makeup palettes and camera equipment, their energy palpable.

“Y/N! Mingyu! Over here!” the director waves us over to a pristine white set, where we’re expected to coo and swoon

“Showtime,” Mingyu whispers in my ear. His peppermint breath sends an involuntary shiver down my spine. This fake boyfriend thing is harder than it looks.

I force a smile, slipping my fingers through his as we pose for the cameras. Each flash feels like a dagger, reminding me this isn’t real. But for the sake of our careers, we plaster on the affection.

“Y/N, could you look at Mingyu like he’s the best thing that ever happened to you?” the photographer instructs, eyes focused behind the lens.

Like he’s the best thing that ever happened to me? Easy. I turn, my gaze softening as if on cue. As much as Mingyu frustrates me, he’s also been my confidant and partner-in-crime through this chaotic idol life. Maybe this won’t be so hard after all.

Mingyu meets my eyes, his expression unexpectedly tender. The lines of his face soften, making the acting feel less like an act.

We’re mid-pose when Mingyu decides to speak. “You know, you’re not as bad at this as I thought you’d be,” he says, his voice just loud enough for me to hear.

I raise an eyebrow, still maintaining my “loving” gaze for the photographer. "What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing. Just that maybe we should fake date more often. You’re adorable when you’re pretending.”

I falter, the smile slipping slightly. “Watch it, Mingyu.”

==

The hours pass and the shoot finally wraps. We receive a round of applause for our “chemistry,” and Mingyu pulls me into a side hug, his hand resting on my shoulder. Pretending becomes so much easier with each click of the camera.

“Good job today,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, tinged with genuine warmth.

For a moment, I almost forget we’re pretending. Almost.

“We pulled it off, didn’t we?” I muse, pressing my temple against his arm briefly before pulling away.

“Yeah,” he admits, his eyes locking onto mine. “We make a pretty good team, Y/N.”

Something in his gaze makes my heart stutter. It feels like he’s trying to say more, like he’s testing unfamiliar waters.

“Yeah, well don’t get used to it. This is still a temporary arrangement.” I remind myself more than him, with a fleeting half-smile.

==

Weeks roll by, and the line between fiction and reality starts to blur. Mingyu and I are inseparable, seen at award shows, interviews, seen leaving our "shared" house, and even the occasional late-night ramen shop. The media loves us. Fans dub us “the power couple of the decade.”

One evening, as we rehearse a choreographed routine for an upcoming awards show performance, the tension boils over. Mingyu’s patience breaks first.

“Y/N, you’re a step behind!” he snaps, frustration evident as he stops mid-spin. “We’ve done this a thousand times, what’s going on with you?”

Anger flares in my chest. “I’m sorry if I'm not perfect like you, okay?”

He throws his hands up in exasperation. “It’s not about being perfect, it’s about working together!”

“You think I don’t know that?!” I shout back, breathless. “This whole thing...it's draining, Mingyu. Maybe fake dating wasn't the best idea after all. Maybe…”

“Maybe what?” he challenges, stepping closer. “Maybe we should just end it? Announce it was all a prank?”

The space between us crackles with unspoken words, and I take a small step back, my chest heaving. “Maybe.”

His eyes search mine, the anger simmering into something else entirely—something raw and real. “And what if I don’t want it to end?”

Time stands still as his words hang in the air. The intensity in his gaze makes my heart race for an entirely different reason.

“What exactly are you saying?” I finally ask, needing clarity even if it feels terrifying.

He takes a deep breath, before lifting my head with his thumb on my chin and two under. “I’m saying...I don’t think this was ever just fake for me. And I don’t want it to be.”

My breath catches. Neither of us moves. The air feels charged and heavy with possibility.

“Me neither,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper, finally understanding the depth of my feelings.

A slow, almost relieved smile spreads across his face, and he reaches for my hand, linking our fingers together much like the first time we “acted” in love. Only now, it feels unforced, genuine.

The journey to real from fake has been messy, fraught with disagreements and tension, but standing here, looking into his eyes, I realize it was worth every moment.

“Looks like we’ve got a new script to follow,” Mingyu murmurs, his thumb caressing the back of my hand.

I smile, leaning into the comforting warmth of his presence. “Yeah, and this time, we don’t have to pretend.”

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

‐Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-Gabi✨️🎀

[kpopkurves]

Where The Lights Fade

Choi San x Reader

Theme- Angst(?), Hurt Comfort,

Requests are Opened!

—

The city lights flickered like dying stars, and you stood there arms wrapped around yourself, shivering more from the weight in your chest than from the cold. You swore you wouldn’t call him again. You swore this was the last time you’d let him make you feel like this.

But when your phone lit up with his name, you answered anyway.

“Hey… I’m sorry,” San’s voice came through, rough and tired. “Something came up. I can’t make it tonight.”

Your heart cracked in that same old way it had been for months now.

“Of course you can’t,” you whispered, biting the inside of your cheek to hold back the tears. “It’s fine, San.”

“Baby, don’t say it like that. You know I’d be there if I could”

“Would you?” you cut him off, voice trembling. “Because lately, it feels like I’m always here… waiting for you to show up.”

Silence. Heavy, suffocating silence.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, and you could hear it the breaking in his voice. “I’m trying.”

“Maybe love isn’t enough if we can’t even live it,” you whispered.

And before he could answer, you hung up, letting the tears spill freely this time.

———————

Months passed. Months of you throwing yourself into your art, chasing every opportunity like you were running from the memories of him. You told yourself you were over it over him.

Until that night.

Until you opened Twitter, expecting to see trending memes or a new ATEEZ comeback, but instead, it was his name.

“Choi San’s Health Scare Shocks Fans: Idol Quietly Battling Chronic Illness.”

Your hands went numb. The phone slipped from your fingers, clattering against the floor as your heart dropped to your stomach.

“No… no, no, no.”

You hadn’t known. You hadn’t known.

All those nights he left you waiting, all the times he pushed you away it wasn’t because he didn’t love you. It was because he was hurting, alone, thinking he was protecting you.

——————

You didn’t even remember how you got to the hospital. You burst into his room, chest heaving, tears streaming down your cheeks.

The hospital room smelled like clean linen and something sterile but you barely noticed that. All you could see was San, lying in that bed, looking so much smaller than the version of him you remembered.

It had taken everything in you not to fall apart when you first walked in, but now, sitting by his side, holding his hand in both of yours, you couldn’t stop staring.

“You lost weight,” you whispered, trying to joke, but your voice cracked at the edges.

San smiled weakly, squeezing your hand.

“You’re still beautiful,” he whispered back, and that made the tears you’d been holding in finally spill over.

“Stop,” you said shakily, laughing through the tears. “You’re supposed to let me be mad at you.”

“I know,” he chuckled softly. “But I missed you too much to let you yell at me.”

Your thumb traced soft circles on the back of his hand as you looked at him, memorizing every feature like you were terrified to forget.

“Why didn’t you tell me, San?”

He looked down, ashamed.

“Because I couldn’t stand the thought of you giving up everything you were working for… because of me,” he murmured. “You were finally getting recognized. I didn’t want to be the reason you stopped flying.”

“You idiot,” you whispered, voice thick with tears. “I would’ve given it all up. I would’ve given you everything.”

San’s eyes glistened as he looked back at you.

“I know, baby,” he said softly. “That’s why I couldn’t let you.”

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his.

“You didn’t have to protect me from loving you.”

“I was trying to protect you from hurting like this.”

“Too late,” you breathed out, your lips brushing his.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, eyes closing as if he couldn’t bear to see your pain.

“Don’t be. Just… let me stay. Please.”

“Okay,” he breathed, and for the first time in months, you both just existed in each other’s arms, like no time had passed.

—————

The Soft Days

The next few days were quiet but beautiful in their own way. You brought your sketchbook and paints, sitting by his bed as he watched you work.

“Paint me,” he said one afternoon, grinning tiredly.

“You’re already in every one of my paintings,” you smiled, dipping your brush into color.

“Paint me now, though. Like this,” he insisted.

So you did. You painted him as he was fragile but still so beautiful. You made sure to capture the softness in his gaze when he looked at you.

Sometimes he’d fall asleep while you painted, his hand still holding yours like he was afraid to let go. You’d watch his chest rise and fall, praying that it always would.

At night, when the nurses dimmed the lights, you’d crawl into the narrow bed beside him, careful not to hurt him. He’d wrap his arms around you, his body weaker but his embrace still so warm, and you’d lay like that for hours.

“I missed holding you like this,” he’d whisper against your hair.

“Then hold me forever,” you’d reply, pretending you didn’t know forever was slipping away.

—————-

The Final Sunrise

The night before you were set to leave for your international gallery debut the dream you’d both talked about for years San asked you to wake him up early.

“I want to watch the sunrise with you. One last time,” he said softly.

You almost told him not to say “last,” but the lump in your throat was too big to speak around.

So as dawn broke, casting soft gold through the hospital window, you sat with him on the edge of the bed, wrapped in a blanket. His head rested on your shoulder, and you leaned your head on his.

“You always loved sunrises,” you whispered, blinking back tears.

“Because you love them,” he murmured, a small smile playing on his lips.

“You promised we’d see a thousand more,” you whispered.

“Maybe… in another life,” he said softly.

The light warmed his pale skin, and for a moment, he looked just like he used to radiant, full of life.

“If we were stars,” he murmured, “maybe we’d burn at the same time in another sky.”

You turned to him, tears falling freely now, and kissed him as the sun rose higher, burning the sky in shades of pink and gold.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips.

“I love you more,” he replied, voice soft but sure.

“You better wait for me in that sky,” you said, smiling through your tears.

“Always,” he promised.

—————-

The Painting Reveal

Months later, you stood in a massive gallery filled with strangers, but all you could think about was him.

Your art lined every wall, but one painting stood alone, bathed in soft, focused light.

It was him, sitting in that hospital bed, sunlight pouring over him, eyes closed as if he were dreaming of a better world.

The press and art critics whispered about the piece, but you blocked them out, your heart pounding in your chest.

A small plaque beneath it read:

“Where the Light Fades.”

For the boy who taught me how to love in silence.

As you stood there, staring up at the boy you’d loved and lost, you felt a soft breeze swirl around you — gentle, familiar.

You closed your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips, as if he were standing there beside you, whispering:

“I’m here.”

And as the room around you faded into a blur, you whispered back:

“I see you, Sannie. Always.”

[kairoot]

⟢ — 6:11 pm. | 니키.

⟢ pairing : niki x black!fem!reader ➖ genre : fluff, established relationship ➖ requested : no ➖ warnings : none really, kissing, nicknames, joking around ➖ wc: 952.

SECTION SONG: poetic justice by kendrick lamar & drake / mary jane by mary j. blige

with all the yelling coming from the living room, it made you wonder what could possibly cause your boyfriend to be so loud. making your way into the cozy setting, your eyes are instantly set on niki.

all of his fancy equipment for his streams had been set up, the camera facing him. you stood in a near corner, watching the live chat.

“should i do a stream with heeseung hyung, everyone?” your boyfriend questioned his viewers, not noticing you in the back. he mumbled out, reading the responses from everyone.

‘is that y/n??’ one comment read.

niki furrowed his brows in confusion, “y/n? where- oh.”

he looked at you through the camera before turning around in his seat. he beckoned for you to come sit with him, a smile forming on his face.

“hey, baby.”

you sent a small wave before walking toward him with small steps. his smile grew wider as you came closer to him, his arm coming to wrap around your waist.

‘IT IS Y/N RAHHH’

‘MOTHERRRR’

‘she’s here!!!’

every comment lit up with your name when you came into frame. niki turned back to the camera, still wearing the same grin.

“my baby’s here~ isn’t she pretty, chat?” he asked, placing a hand over his heart, pretending to be hurt by your beauty. you bit back your smile, suddenly feeling bashful.

niki patted his leg, signaling for you to take a seat in his lap. he planted a kiss on the corner of your lips and your jaw, now wrapping both arms around your middle. his hand came to rest against your leg, stroking it with his thumb.

you sent a wave to everyone again, a small smile appearing.

‘SHE’S SO CUTE KI’

‘PLEASE I NEED HER’

niki chuckled at his fan’s reactions, scooting his chair closer to the screen.

“what’re you playing, bubba?” you asked softly, your arm coming to wrap around his shoulder. his heart jumped at the use of the nickname while he bit his lip to hide another smile.

“fnaf, since everyone wanted to see it. you wanna play?” his gaze flickered to you.

you gave him an unsure look, watching him play a horror game sounded like a bad idea but the thought of playing it yourself was even worse.

“i don’t know, ki..”

“c’mon, babe. it’ll be fun!” he whined, resting his chin on your shoulder, giving you a pleading look. you sighed, giving into him. he did a mini celebratory dance, going on his monitor to load the game.

“i’m only doing this for the stream by the way.” you blew a kiss to the camera, giggling.

niki scoffed dramatically, glaring at you.

“not because you love me?”

“uh-uh.” you smirked, taunting him. he raised an eyebrow before reaching down to tickle your sides. you attempted to scramble away from his wriggling fingers, squeals and giggles escaping you.

“you don’t love me, ma?” he spoke into your ear, continuing his antics. this only caused you to laugh more, the feelings of his lips adding onto the tickly sensation.

“..no.” you said between laughs causing him to tickle your sides faster.

“you do love me, say it.” he leaned over to pepper kisses against your cheek. his fingers stopped digging into your sides as one hand rested against your tummy and the other back on your thigh.

“okay, okay,” your giggles died down as you attempted to catch your breath.

“i love you.”

niki hummed in approval, his face coming closer to yours. your hand rested against his jaw, closing the gap between the two of you. his plush lips rested on yours in a long kiss, smiling into it.

your eyes opened before the kiss turned into a makeout of some sort, pulling away from your boyfriend’s lips to face the camera again.

“i completely forgot this was here.” you pursed your lips in embarrassment, skimming through the comments. niki turned back to the livestream, a giddy grin painted over his features.

‘WOAHHH???’

‘what kind of romcom did i just watch’

“so sorry, everyone. niki can’t control himself.” you shrugged, purposely putting the blame on him. he gave you an offended look before going to look at the comments again, one in particular standing out to him.

‘you two need to get a room’

niki rolled his eyes before clicking the ‘play’ button on the game, picking a level for you.

“heeseung, you’re just mad cause you’re a loner.”

niki’s comment made you land a stinging smack on his back, causing him to groan loudly.

“what? it’s true!”

“that’s not nice.” you moved his hand away from the computer’s mouse, taking over the controls. he pouted slightly, mumbling something else about his hyung.

“wait, isn’t this ‘the joy of creation’? this is the scariest one!” your face contorted with fear. niki sat behind you, snickering.

“babe, this is definitely not the scariest one.”

“you’re lying.”

he chuckled, wrapping both arms tightly around your waist. he drew shapes on your thighs, watching you start the game. you flinched at almost every sound throughout the level.

the stream flooded with comments about how cute you were and why niki would make you play such a scary game. he responded to some of them, cracking jokes most of the time.

your eyes remained on the screen ahead of you, not wanting to be distracted. that was until one of the animatronics popped up onto the screen, causing you to jump back against your boyfriend’s chest, letting out a yelp.

he let out a cackle as you hid your face in his chest, heart rate increasing.

you frowned, shoving his shoulder gently.

“that wasn’t funny, i could’ve had a heart attack.”

⟢ milan’s note: first post of 2024! 🥳💗 how we feeling? happy new year to everyone! i hope you have another great year! got sleepy while posting and writing this so it’s obviously not proofread. inspo by tae @telail cause i loved her jongho fic with the live stream & gaming. i was also watching kai cenat yesterday so ig i got the livestream idea from that too 🤔

TAGLIST: @haechansbbg @contyynishimura @sasfransisco @kgneptun @aeinthegoblin-deactivated202312 (message or comment to be added)

[leehnz]

when words fail

taesan x fem!reader (self insert lowk)

summary: a new job at the convenience store introduces you to a love you never thought you would find :3

wc : 4.9k

friday nights are usually your designated nights. you enjoy spending time cuddled up in your bedroom, duvet draped over your body while you watch your favorite kpop band perform on your laptop screen.

despite being unable to see them live, the feeling is electric—unreal, even. but those nights of solace are no longer, and all because you decided to get a job. it isn’t easy finding a place suitable to your taste, but you manage to find one at the convenience store on the corner of your street, a place you frequent.

of course you don’t choose to get a job out of the blue, there’s an underlying reason. that being your desire to see your favorite band in concert. though watching through the screen is enjoyable, the feeling of seeing them live is unmatched.

listening to their heavenly vocals, seeing their elaborate and skilled dance moves along with their angelically crafted faces in person? you’d be a fool to turn down a chance at experiencing that.

that’s why you’re standing in the doorway of the convenience store, application in hand as the owner, an older man with graying hair, leads you inside the store. “come, come!” he ushers you in warmly, a gentle smile on his face.

“i’m sure you got the email about getting the job already.”

you nod, following closely behind as he leads you to the register. the register that changes the course of your experience at your new job, and all because of one boy.

he’s gorgeous. extremely tall and sharp featured with high cheekbones and the cutest pouty lips. his face holds no expression, but his eyes, his eyes speak to you more than you believe he ever could.

“ah, this is taesan!” your manager introduces excitedly, ushering the boy to come out from the counter. he complies, steadily making his way out until he’s in front of you.

“taesan, this is yn. she’s the new employee i was telling you about.”

you bow, to which he reciprocates, before offering your hand out for a handshake. he glances down, slightly surprised, before taking your hand in his own. his hand is soft, but you can feel the slight callouses—a testament of hard work.

“nice to meet you.” he says, voice silky smooth and full of honey. this job is only supposed to be a means of getting money, but your introduction to taesan makes you second guess your intentions.

would it be all that bad to find romance if you were still making money? 

“i’m hoping you can start soon. i know it’s short notice, but can you come in tomorrow?”

“definitely,” you reassure him, offering a small smile. your manager thanks you, before leading you around the backroom where the employees stay. all the while, you find it hard to keep your eyes off of taesan.

he’s just so captivating.

you’re in for a lot of trouble.

–

the next day, you begrudgingly roll out of bed an hour earlier than usual. yes, having money is exciting, but your beauty sleep will always be more important. nonetheless, you make it to the store in just the knick of time, quickly greeting a bored looking taesan who lazily nods in acknowledgment.

“morning,” you mumble, bowing quickly, before disappearing into the back room. taesan’s eyes follow your figure, a slight quirk of the corner of his lips making an appearance at your disheveled semblance.

“rough morning?” he asks when you finally emerge from the room, hands hurriedly tying the straps of your apron behind your back. you nod, brushing your hair out of your face before joining him at the register.

he just chuckles, and holds his hand out. you tilt your head in confusion.

“huh?”

“phone.” he says simply, brows raising expectantly.

you pout, muttering under your breath as you dig in your pocket to hand him your phone. then he laughs, a genuine laugh, and it makes you look up at him, and the sight makes your breath hitch.

he’s even cuter when he smiles.

“i’m just messing with you. i’m supposed to be training you today though. are you ready?” he leans against the counter, eyes never leaving your face.

you nod, speechless, to which he claps his hands together.

“alright, first up i’ll teach you about the register.”

training goes relatively smoothly, as smooth as it can go, with a few blips here and there. he teaches you the ins and outs of using the register, including all of the shortcuts he’s managed to create since working there.

he also goes over how to take inventory (something so tedious it quickly becomes your least favorite task), and of course what he likes to call “standard” customer service skills. though to you, the skills are a lot more than just the bare minimum.

taesan is impossible to ignore. he’s extremely kind to the customers, speaking lightheartedly to them as if it’s second nature. it’s obvious to you that he’s grown a reputation around the store, judging by how receptive customers both young and old are to him.

it’s kind of endearing to watch.

“you’re good at that,” you comment once rush hour ends. he shrugs, picking a piece of lint from off of his apron. “it gets easier when you get used to it.” you nod, continuing to wipe down the counter.

the sun has already begun to set by now, the moon illuminating brightly, casting dark shadows along the sidewalk. you look through the window, huffing at the sight. today goes by quicker than you expect.

if every work day is like today, you wouldn’t mind having a job at all. especially with eye candy like taesan.

“ah, almost forgot,” he says suddenly, weaving past you and toward the shelves. you watch him, confused, when he motions for you to follow him. “forgot what?”

“another shortcut.” he says matter-of-factly, leading you to the 3 layered carts filled with crates of what you assume to be merchandise.

“i was going to teach you tomorrow, but doing it like this makes it so much easier.”

“doing what like what?” you ask, bewildered.

“stocking, duh?” he says as he crouches down to lift a box of merchandise from the cart. you nod in understanding, grabbing a box of your own. but what you don’t realize is that convenience store snacks can be so heavy, and you nearly topple over at the mere weight of the box.

“what’s in this, bricks?” he chuckles at your expense, plopping the box he holds down to assist you with yours. you thank him, heading over to the aisle that corresponds with the box.

“it’s pretty self-explanatory, just make sure you arrange them neatly or the owner gets mad. doing it the night before makes your job so much easier.” he explains, crossing his arms, his body leaning against the shelf.

“i’ll help you today, but most days we split up the work.”

you nod, shooting him a thumbs up, turning to get to work. stocking is pretty easy, and it quickly becomes your favorite task. taesan is right about everything being relatively simple— all you have to do is find the correct spot and organize it in a neat way, something you enjoy doing anyway.

in fact, you enjoy it so much you secretly wish you could rearrange all the shelves, but you don’t get paid enough for that. everything goes smoothly until it’s time for you to reach the dreaded top shelf.

you click your tongue, turning to see if there’s a stool nearby, but there isn’t. so being the ever independent girl you are, you figure out a way to reach the top shelf—for the most part.

brilliantly, tossing the bowls of ramen on the shelf seems to be working perfectly. they even manage to align themselves correctly, something you chalk up to divine intervention. but as you near the front of the row of ramen, it gets more difficult.

you huff, shifting on your tippy toes, hands stretching as far as they can to slide the final bowl of buldak on the shelf, but you’re just short of it.

then, warmth.

the feeling of something—someone—coming up behind you makes your body grow slack, your weight shifting back to your heels as taesan’s hand grabs the cup from your hand, effortlessly sliding it into place.

you feel your breath catch in your throat, cheeks warming at the feeling of his body so close to yours, but the feeling only lasts a second. he dusts his hands off, placing them on his hips with a sigh.

“next time, ask for help.” he says simply, as if he hasn’t almost just given you a heart attack. you feel like a freak for reading into it, but how could you not? your oddly attractive new coworker just comes up behind you and helps you reach the top shelf.

it’s like something straight out of a drama. “whatever.” you stumble over your words, hiding your face as you quickly walk over to the backroom. taesan watches you, a perplexed look on his face, before shrugging.

–

for the next few weeks, you consistently go to work, and things run smoothly. customers start to warm up to you, the tasks become muscle memory, and the job isn’t too tiring, so you still have enough time to have a social life outside of it.

needless to say, getting this job is a blessing.

as for taesan, he’s still his usual polite self, but he’s sort of closed off, you notice. at first it kind of bothers you, but you chalk it up to him being an introvert. plus, it’s better this way.

who knows how fast you would fold if a friendship bloomed between the two of you.

but after a while of smooth sailing, taesan starts growing increasingly agitated at the unspoken awkwardness that seems to loom between the two of you. yeah, you’re friendly—sometimes even having small conversations here and there—but there’s still this odd feeling of tension. heavy, yet unserious at the same time.

it’s driving him insane.

so he does what any other logical person would do: he decides to confront you about it.

the first time taesan tries to bring it up, it doesn’t go too well. in truth, it just makes things even more awkward than they were.

“yn?” he calls for you one day while you’re busy restocking the shelves.

you pause, dusting off your apron and walking toward him.

“yeah?”

“is everything… okay between us?” and the way he says it—hesitant and soft—makes it so hard for you not to believe there’s a double meaning behind his words. makes it hard to believe he doesn’t mean something else by it. but as delusional as you are about your favorite band, you know the difference between fantasy and reality.

and this is reality. taesan doesn’t mean anything by it. “of course, why?” you chuckle to ease the awkwardness. he just scratches the back of his head, nodding before motioning for you to go back to work.

after that, you make sure to keep extra distance from him. whenever he’s talking to a customer, you hide on the opposite side of the store so he can’t pull you into the conversation.

during breaks, you insist on eating after him just so you won’t be alone with him in the breakroom.

but taesan isn’t stupid. he notices, and it bothers him. but he doesn’t know if he’s reading too much into it. maybe you have a reason, or maybe it really is just all in his head.

he won’t know for sure unless he tests it—so he does.

“yn, i need your help with the register!”

you quickly jog up to him, slipping behind the counter to assist.

“what’s up?”

he hums, tapping a few random buttons, hoping you won’t notice his blatant acting. “i keep getting stuck on this screen when i try to exit.”

you look up at him, confused, tapping a few buttons before the register returns to its original screen. “how do you not know this? you’ve been working here longer than me,” you tease, turning to head back to your task.

“wait,” he suddenly says, reaching a hand out to stop you. you glance down at his hovering hand before he quickly retracts it, motioning for you to come back.

“there’s this thing too,” he says, inching closer to where you stand in front of the register. and you, being you, notice this, and begin to scoot further and further away from him.

“what thing?” you accidentally stutter, forehead creasing in embarrassment. you hadn’t meant to show your nervousness, it just happens.

“this.” he taps a random button on the screen, attempting to lean in closer to you again. this time, you take a full step back, nervously giggling at your sudden closeness.

this time, there’s no mistaking it. you deliberately take a step away from him when he moves close to you, and he wants to know why. so he moves again. then you move again—away from him.

the two of you play this little dance until he has you backed against the wall, your hands raised in surrender. it doesn’t help that he refuses to break eye contact the entire time.

“what are you doing?” you ask, your voice coming out as a squeak.

he doesn’t say anything. his eyes continue to bore into your face, engraving every feature of yours into his memory.

then, finally: “why do you act so awkward around me?”

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding when he steps back, arms crossing. you shrug, trying to wave him off, trying to pretend han taesan didn’t just have you cornered against the wall.

that you hadn’t just seen his gorgeously carved face up close—too close.

“i don’t. it’s just my personality.”

but taesan doesn’t buy it. instead, he scoffs, muttering something under his breath, still refusing to let it go.

“well if we’re going to be coworkers we need to be comfortable with each other. let’s spend our lunch break together.” he insists, leaving no room for refusal.

you sputter, blinking in confusion while he nudges you from behind the counter. “now get back to stocking.”

—

when lunchtime rolls around, your nerves are on ten. taesan closes the store, flipping the open sign to closed, leaving you absolutely no options for escape.

you know it’s ridiculous to be this nervous about sharing lunch with him, but it’s impossible not to be—especially when he looks like that, when he looks at you like that. like you’re the only person in the world.

you touch your finger to your lips, tracing them—a nervous habit you’ve picked up. taesan finally enters the backroom, two bowls of steaming ramen in hand as he sets one down in front of you.

“alright, let’s get to know each other.”

you snort at the way he says it, like it’s a mission that has to be completed. that earns you a slight smile from him, and in that moment, you wish you were a comedian just so you could see that radiant smile every day.

“ask me any question, i don’t bite,” he adds, picking up his chopsticks. you nod in thought, swirling the noodles in your bowl before mustering up the courage to speak.

“when did you start working here?”

“i started a year or two ago, in my first year of university,” he answers, taking a big bite of his ramen. you take one of your own, humming in understanding.

“university? how old are you, and what are you studying?”

“i’m twenty, and i’m studying music production.” you don’t miss the way his eyes seem to twinkle at the topic of music—it’s kind of cute.

“enough about me. what about you?”

you cover your mouth as you chew, freezing at the sudden question.

“me? what do you want to know?”

“everything you asked me.”

you hum, setting your bowl down. “i’m eighteen, i’m in my first year of university, and i’m studying math.”

he gasps, making a dramatic face of disgust. “math? who does that to themselves?”

you smile, rolling your eyes. “intelligent people.”

the two of you keep eating and chatting, and the more time you spend with him, the more you realize how much you enjoy just being around him. maybe avoiding him hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

“oh, i’ve been meaning to ask,” he says suddenly, just as the conversation begins to wind down. “is there any particular reason you got a job?”

you pause, a ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. you’ve got two options: lie and say it’s for tuition, or be honest. judging by the way he’s looking at you, option one sounds appealing—but for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to lie.

“don’t laugh at me…” you start, hanging your head in shame.

he laughs before you even get the words out. “i won’t, i won’t.”

you exhale, shutting your eyes. “i’m saving up to fund my obsession with this boy band,” you finally admit.

taesan puffs his cheeks, a terrible attempt at holding in his laugh, but it bursts out all at once. “you only got a job for kpop?” he sputters between laughs, hunched over in his chair.

“that’s some serious dedication,” he teases, once he’s caught his breath and sips his water.

“see, this is why i didn’t want to tell you,” you whine, fiddling with the cap of your water bottle. he shrugs, clearly not serious.

“i’m just teasing you. what group is it?”

“it’s this band called boynextdoor,” you say, already pulling out your phone to show him a song. he hums, feigning interest. if he’s being honest, the idea of a kpop group you’re obsessed with doesn’t exactly excite him, but if pretending to care makes you happy—he’ll do it in a heartbeat.

he hums along as you scroll through photos of them littered across your pinterest board, explaining the lore of the group. “they sound alright,” he comments, trying to sound casual.

“alright? they’re more than alright! let me show you their newest album!”

–

for the next few weeks, you and taesan grow closer—a lot closer than you intended or imagined. spending lunch breaks together becomes part of your daily routine, and if you’re honest, you look forward to them every single day.

taesan also gets much more comfortable around you, which means the teasing starts. relentless teasing. he constantly pokes fun at how your cheeks puff up when you eat, how your voice goes an octave higher when talking to older customers, or how you have this oddly specific system for organizing shelves.

of course, you cherish this new bond between the two of you. but the more time you spend together, the more your crush grows. at first, it was just physical attraction—but now, after actually getting to know him, it’s worse. or better. depending on how you look at it.

he’s sweet. he’s thoughtful. and he’s stupidly talented. falling for him was inevitable, and honestly, you can’t even blame yourself. but you’re not going to act on it. that would just make things weird, so instead—you set boundaries.

invisible boundaries that taesan seems determined to ignore.

he’s surprisingly touchy. always resting his hand on your shoulder, hovering near your waist when he brushes past, placing his palm lightly on your lower back if you’re in his way.

he also makes weird comments sometimes—calls you cute, slips in random compliments like it’s nothing. it’s confusing. he’s confusing. and impossible to gauge. still, you brush off the moments, chalking them up to his personality. until today.

today was supposed to be a normal day. rush hour ended early, which meant the store was quiet. quiet enough for you to pull out your phone and fangirl over your favorite group, who just so happened to be performing live tonight. the timing was awful—their set landed during the last hour of your shift—but with no customers, you had more than enough time to indulge.

taesan’s off sweeping the floor, music blaring through his earbuds, completely unaware as you prop your phone up against the register and clap your hands like a kid on christmas. the live starts, and you’re already grinning at the comment section flooding in.

“yn, i finished—” he pauses, catching the pure joy on your face. he’s never seen you look this animated before. it’s… kinda cute.

“what are you doing?” he asks, eyes flicking to your phone.

“my favorite group performs tonight!” you practically squeal, looking up at him with genuine excitement.

he hums, sets the broom aside, and walks over, arms crossed as he leans in slightly to see your screen.

“that’s what’s got you this worked up?” he teases. normally, your heart would flutter at how close he’s standing, but you’re too focused on the angels on your screen to care.

taesan glances sideways at you, a weird twinge of irritation rising in his chest. he doesn’t get what’s so great about these guys. hell, you haven’t even looked at him since they came on.

then, it happens.

you squeal—loudly—as one of the members lifts his shirt to flash his abs. taesan squints at the screen, scoffing.

“did you see that? he just showed us his abs! oh my gosh, they’re glorious! if i could see that in person…” you gush, completely in your own world, rambling about how unreal it’d be to see them live.

taesan rolls his eyes. “they’re not that cool. anybody can have abs.”

“tch, not just anybody. look at you, for example.” you shoot back without missing a beat, eyes still locked on the performance.

he frowns—actually frowns—at how easily you dismiss him. he knows you’re joking, but something about your total lack of attention gets under his skin.

“oh yeah? you want to bet?” he says suddenly, leaning in even closer.

you wave him off, still replaying your favorite part of the performance. “yeah right—”

“how am i supposed to show you if you won’t even look at me?”

you scoff, finally turning to give him a piece of your mind—but stop cold when you see what’s in front of you.

taesan’s hands are gripping the hem of his shirt, lifting it just enough to reveal a sliver of his abs.

“what are you doing?! stop!” you squeak, immediately turning away, flustered out of your mind.

he laughs—really laughs—smoothing down his shirt like he didn’t just flash you.

“i’m taking fifteen,” you mumble, cheeks burning as you practically sprint to the backroom. you fan your face, glaring at the sound of his laughter echoing from the front.

you cannot believe he just did that.

but taesan? oh, he’s smug. leaning against the counter with a smile tugging at his lips, proud of himself for successfully pulling your attention off your beloved boy band—and back onto him.

–

later that night, your face is buried in your pillow, a poor attempt at self-suffocation. no matter how hard you try to erase the image from your mind, that moment with taesan plays over and over like a broken record.

he makes it so hard not to like him.

you scream into your pillow, fists pounding the mattress, when a notification sounds from your phone. confused, you reach over, mouth falling open at taesan’s name flashing on your screen.

taesan: what’s so great about boynextdoor anyway? anyone could do what they do you: are you seriously still on that? taesan: yes, you were going crazy over them you: yeah, bc they’re amazing. they can sing, dance, rap plus their beauty is hard to find taesan: not really you: yes really taesan: who’s cuter me or them? you: stop asking weird questions

(read 11:09 pm)

you sigh, dropping your phone back onto your pillow. the more you think about it, the more delusional you feel about the chance taesan might actually like you back.

come to think of it, he’s been acting weirder than usual lately—complimenting you more, always finding reasons to be close, even now asking questions about what you think of him.

of course you think taesan is cuter, but you’d never tell him that. that would just make everything awkward.

then, another notification.

this time, it’s a voice message from him. your breath catches as your finger hovers over the play button.

you press play—and immediately regret it.

it’s taesan singing, his voice steady and smooth, filled with emotion. of course, he chose a song from your favorite group.

and just as the message ends, you hear his voice—low, sleepy—

“goodnight yn.”

–

work is unbearable. things between you two are awkward, and it’s mostly your fault. you absolutely refuse to make eye contact with him, and when you can, you avoid him. taesan looks slightly confused by the sudden change in your attitude.

the two of you had made so much progress — only for it to unravel in exactly one day. he isn’t going to let that slide.

“yn,” he hums, as you pretend to be busy wiping down the counter.

“yn,” he says again, more urgently this time. you exhale and finally tear your eyes away from the counter to look at him.

“yes, taesan?”

“why are you being weird again?”

you wish you could slap him for asking such a stupid question, but you’ve learned by now that taesan is just naturally oblivious. any girl in your position would avoid him after the stunt he pulled yesterday.

it’s hard to believe he’s even asking.

taesan tilts his head, genuine confusion written across his face as he waits for an answer.

“are you serious?” you scoff lightly, turning back to resume wiping.

taesan huffs, annoyed, and inches closer. you freeze, hand still pressed against the damp cloth.

“is it because of yesterday?” his voice is teasing as he leans in again, and in that moment you briefly consider whether physical violence would be so bad. you step back, holding your hand out to create distance between you.

“you’re being weird…” you mutter, eyes darting everywhere but his.

taesan’s brows knit in frustration. he’s starting to feel bad — you look so uncomfortable, and that wasn’t his intention at all. he thought the feeling was mutual.

“i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable,” he says quietly, kicking at dust on the floor. you blink, looking up at him in surprise.

“no, no, i’m not uncomfortable, it’s just…” you trail off, searching for the words.

taesan gives you a moment, then grows impatient. he tilts his head again, leaning closer so you can see his face. your breath catches as you fight the urge to meet his eyes, but it’s no use.

“just…?” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

that’s your breaking point.

taesan keeps doing things — the skinship, the voice messages, the random compliments. it’s driving you insane. not the actions themselves, but the fact that he does it so mindlessly.

taesan doesn’t actually like you. he’s just being himself, and that’s what bothers you. you thought it’d be okay at first — accepting his teasing — but it’s become unbearable. your feelings for him are unbearable.

you have to put an end to it.

but before you can speak, your tears say it for you. they pool in your eyes, and you blink furiously, trying to hold them back.

“oh, wait, yn, are you okay?” he suddenly steps back, concern written all over his face. you shake your head, sniffling as you wipe the tears from your cheeks.

“i’m fine, i just… just stop teasing me before i think you’re serious.” your voice cracks, your bottom lip trembling as you finally say the words you’ve been avoiding.

taesan’s eyes widen in shock as he watches you cry, unsure what to do. he isn’t good at moments like this — and making you cry was never his intention. what did you mean, you thought he wasn’t serious? he was serious.

“wait, i’m sorry if i’ve been confusing you but i am serious,” he stumbles over his words, eyes closing in frustration as he tries to find the right way to say it. but you don’t hear any of it — your shoulders only shake harder, tears spilling over.

you don’t even know why you’re crying. you’re not usually emotional, but now the waterworks won’t stop no matter what he says.

“it’s fine. i think i just need a minute.”

you sniffle again, turning toward the breakroom. but just then, taesan moves — finally finding the courage to act. to prove he’s serious about you, that he always has been.

his arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you into his chest. your eyes widen as your arms instinctively circle his wrists. he rests his neck in the crook of yours, breath warm and tickling your collarbone.

“i am serious about you, yn. i just tease you because i like you so much.” his voice is low and gentle, the scent of his cologne warm and comforting as he hugs you tighter.

then he pulls back, turning you gently to face him. his hands stay on your shoulders as he says:

“i like you, yn.”

his hands find their way to your cheeks, cupping them as he pulls you in for a brief peck on the corner of your lips. somehow, that small gesture was more intimate — more romantic — than a kiss on the lips could have ever been.

your tears fall again as you bury your face in his shirt, fist limply punching his shoulder.

“i like you too, stupid,” you say between sniffles.

taesan smiles, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“i know you do.”

you punch him again, earning a small laugh.

“don’t be so confusing next time.”

taesan just smiles, pressing his lips against the crown of your head.

“i promise.”

-

m.list

[moonlightdreamzz]

“Baby, are you crying?” — ENHYPEN (F)

SUMMARY. Remember that time you and Enha had a Disney movie night? It was all fun and laughter—until a sad scene hit. You try to hold it in, but the tears win. And of course, they notice.

THEMES. Established!Relationship. Super warm and fluffy. Some comfort you, and then make fun of you—and some cannot take you serious from jump.

AUTHORS NOTE. This was so fun and therapeutic 🥹. Wanna commit to doing more fluff and less angst this month.

HEESEUNG

Heeseung is half-watching the movie, his phone resting on his thigh, when he hears the first sniffle. At first, he thinks nothing of it—maybe it’s allergies. But then comes another sniffle, followed by the tiniest shaky breath.

His eyes flick toward you, and sure enough, your gaze is locked on the screen, eyes glassy, lower lip trembling.

“You’re actually crying?” His voice holds a teasing lilt, but his expression softens when you wipe at your cheeks with the sleeve of your hoodie.

“Shut up.” You don’t bother looking at him, focusing on the scene that has completely wrecked you.

A quiet chuckle escapes him, but he doesn’t push. Instead, his arm stretches along the back of the couch, fingertips brushing your shoulder before he pulls you in. Heeseung has a way of making things seem effortless, like it’s no big deal that you’re suddenly tucked against his side, your head resting against his chest.

His fingers trace slow, absentminded circles on your arm, the heat of his palm grounding. “You’re cute when you cry,” he murmurs, and before you can protest, his other hand catches your wrist, guiding it away from your face so he can see you better.

Another tear slips down your cheek, and he clicks his tongue, reaching for a tissue before you can grab one yourself. “Here,” he says, pressing it into your palm. “Not that I mind. It’s kinda nice seeing you like this.”

Your glare is weak, mostly because you’re still hopelessly emotional over the damn movie. But Heeseung just smirks, tightening his hold slightly. He’s teasing, but the way his arm stays firmly wrapped around you says something else entirely.

JAY

Jay is completely invested in the movie, relaxed with one arm slung over the back of the couch, when he notices you have gone completely still beside him. His head turns just in time to see a tear streak down your cheek, lips parted as if the sheer weight of the scene has crushed you.

His brows shoot up. “No way. You’re crying?”

You barely react, just sniffling, eyes locked onto the screen. “It’s sad,” you mumble, voice thick with emotion.

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “I mean, yeah, but—”

And then he sees it. The heartbreaking moment that sends you spiraling.

Jay freezes, his teasing grin faltering as his throat tightens unexpectedly. He clears it, shifting in his seat, suddenly far too aware of the lump forming there. His gaze darts toward you, but you’re still absorbed in the film, completely unaware that he is now the one struggling.

When the scene ends, you finally turn to him, blurry-eyed and wrecked. But before you can say anything, Jay exhales sharply, blinking way too fast.

“Damn,” he mutters, rubbing at his jaw. “Okay. I get it now.”

You stare. “Jay. Are you—”

“I said I get it.” He shoots you a glare, but the slight crack in his voice betrays him.

A slow smirk spreads across your lips. “Are you crying?”

“No.”

“You are.”

Jay groans, leaning back against the couch dramatically before covering his face with his hands. “I hate you. I hate this movie.”

You grin, grabbing his sleeve and leaning your head against his shoulder. “It’s okay, Jay,” you murmur, voice warm with amusement. “You’re safe here.”

He lets out a muffled groan. “Never telling Jungwon about this.”

JAKE

Jake is cheerfully narrating the movie like an excited five-year-old when he notices you have gone completely silent.

At first, he thinks you have fallen asleep. But when he turns his head, his heart nearly drops.

Your eyes are glossy, lips slightly parted, and then—one single tear rolls down your cheek.

Jake gasps. “Wait. Are you crying?”

Your face scrunches, and you shake your head quickly, swiping at your cheek. “No.”

He blinks. “Babe. You’re literally crying.”

You press your lips together and shake your head again, but another sniffle betrays you.

Jake sits up straight, eyes wide. “Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. Come here.” Before you can protest, he is already pulling you against him, arms wrapping around you so tightly you can barely move.

“It’s okay,” he coos, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “I’m here. Let it out.”

You groan into his chest, half-laughing, half-crying. “Jake, it’s just a movie.”

“Feel your feelings,” he insists, pressing his cheek to the top of your head. “You don’t have to be strong anymore.”

At this point, you are laughing harder than crying, but Jake just holds you tighter. “Shh. I got you.”

“Jake, I can’t breathe—”

“Shhh.”

SUNGHOON

Sunghoon notices the shift in your breathing before the first tear even falls.

He isn’t really watching the movie, more focused on mindlessly scrolling through his phone, but when he catches the tiniest sniffle beside him, he glances over instinctively.

You are wiping at your face, subtly, like you don’t want him to notice.

For a moment, he just stares.

Then—“Are you crying?”

His voice makes you jump slightly, and you turn toward him, eyes red-rimmed, cheeks flushed.

“No,” you say quickly, but your voice wobbles on the last syllable.

Sunghoon raises a brow. “You literally are.”

You exhale, groaning as you slump back against the couch. “It’s not my fault,” you mumble. “It’s sad.”

He scoffs. “It’s a kids’ movie.”

You shoot him a glare. “So?”

His lips quirk, amused but not unkind. “So nothing.” He stretches, shifting slightly so his thigh presses against yours. He doesn’t say anything more, doesn’t make a big deal of it, but a moment later, he reaches for the sleeve of his hoodie, pulling it over his hand before gently wiping your cheek. Then, he presses a kiss as light as a feather to the side of your head.

You blink, stunned into silence.

Sunghoon’s face remains neutral, his eyes trained on the screen, like he hasn’t just done that. “You’re embarrassing,” he mutters, but his voice is too soft to hold any weight.

And just like that, you know he isn’t teasing at all.

SUNOO

The moment you sniffle, Sunoo notices.

He isn’t even looking at you—his eyes are locked onto the screen, fully immersed in the movie, but somehow, he hears it. His head whips toward you so fast it’s a miracle he doesn’t give himself whiplash.

His jaw drops. “Are you crying?”

You barely manage a nod before another tear slips down your cheek. Sunoo gasps like you just told him the world is ending.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, eyes blown wide with concern. “I can’t believe this. Are you okay? Do you need water? Do you need a snack? A hug? Do you need me to turn it off?”

You shake your head furiously, waving him off as your eyes remain glued to the screen. “No, it’s fine—”

“It is NOT fine,” he interrupts, already scrambling to grab a tissue. “You’re literally suffering.”

You open your mouth to argue, but Sunoo is already pressing the tissue against your cheek, wiping your tears for you like you’re incapable of doing it yourself. His lips are pursed, brows furrowed like this is physically hurting him too.

When the scene finally ends, he lets out a deep breath, turning his full attention to you. His hands cup your face, tilting it up so he can inspect your tear-streaked cheeks.

“I can’t believe a cartoon made you cry,” he murmurs, voice full of exaggerated pity.

Your lips wobble. “It was sad.”

Sunoo sighs, his thumbs smoothing over your cheeks as he shakes his head like he’s the one who just went through emotional turmoil.

“It’s okay,” he whispers dramatically. “I still love you.”

You groan, pushing his hands away, but the grin on his face only grows. He will absolutely be reminding you of this moment forever.

JUNGWON

Jungwon is quiet for a long moment after he hears your first sniffle.

At first, he thinks he imagined it, but then he catches the way your shoulders curl inward slightly, how you swipe at your cheek so quickly it’s almost unnoticeable.

Almost.

His gaze flicks toward you, sharp but unreadable. His mouth opens—maybe to tease, maybe to question—but the words never come out. Because suddenly, another tear rolls down your cheek.

And Jungwon? He panics.

Not outwardly, of course. On the outside, he looks normal, calm, maybe just a little curious. But on the inside? He’s spiraling.

He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to fix it. His whole body tenses like he’s preparing for battle, like someone just declared war on you and he needs to protect you from it. But all he has is a stupid Disney movie and a couch that suddenly feels too small.

His fingers flex slightly, itching to do something, anything. His gaze drops to his lap, then shifts to your hands, clenched tightly in your hoodie sleeves. He exhales.

Slowly, carefully, he moves. His hand finds yours, his fingers brushing lightly against your wrist before curling around it. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make a big deal out of it. But his grip is firm, steady. There, even if you don’t reach back.

You don’t look at him, but your fingers twitch slightly beneath his palm. And then—you squeeze.

Jungwon relaxes instantly. His shoulders drop, the tension in his body melting away as he leans back against the couch. He doesn’t let go. He doesn’t need to.

The movie plays on, but neither of you are really paying attention anymore.

NIKI

The second Ni-ki hears you sniffle, his head snaps toward you like a horror movie villain.

“No way.” He blinks. “Are you crying?”

You immediately wipe at your face, trying to be subtle, but it’s too late. He has already seen.

A slow smirk spreads across his face. “Oh, this is gold.”

You groan, slumping further into the couch. “Ni-ki, please—”

“Are you serious?” He leans closer, tilting his head like he’s trying to get a better look at the damage. “You’re crying. Over a Disney movie.”

Your lips press together as you fight the urge to sob even harder. “It’s sad.”

He lets out a dramatic sigh, throwing himself back against the couch with his arms spread out like he’s physically exhausted by your existence. “Wow. I knew you were soft, but this? This is next level.”

You bury your face in your hands, shaking your head. “I hate you.”

“I know,” he chirps, forcing you into his chest. “But don’t worry, I’ll take good care of my crybaby.”

You peek up at him through your fingers, immediately regretting it because his smug grin is unbearable.

And then—before you can react—he reaches out, scratching your scalp with an almost-too-gentle touch.

Your eyes widen slightly. His smirk wavers. And for a second, he looks almost… guilty?

But then—he’s back to normal.

“Damn,” he sighs, shaking his head dramatically. “I should’ve recorded this.”

“You’re actually evil.”

“Maybe.” He shrugs, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “So what’s the over/under on you crying again before the credits roll?”

You glare at him. He grins. But he doesn’t move away from you.

Not even when you sniffle again.

[breezybangtanbebe]

Rain Rain Rain..You cant fake it : JJK 💋

Tags: JungkookXFemaleReader, raw car sex in the rain, bossy handsy Jungkook, freaky eager reader🥴😌

(Photo is totally AI, I take no credit for it.)

1.7k words

His sweat tasted like honey on your tongue and it mixed with the flavor of the rain that scored his skin on your mad dash across the empty parking lot.

It came out of nowhere.

Well, thats what you would say considering you rarely checked the weather app. Your skimpy outfit being a clear indicator.

Jungkook gave up on warning you ages ago because you never listened. The only times when you did were at times like now, when he demanded that you straddled him the back seat of his Benz.

Your little skirt rides up your thighs and exposed the roundness of your cheeks to everyone if they could be seen through the misty windshield. Luckily for you, no one would be stopping to check in on a parked car at the vacant rest stop off the highway. Not on a dark rainy night like this.

Jungkook groans as your lips latch just under his jaw, suckling one of his many weak spots. He squirmed beneath you, panting in need when your teeth grazed his skin. As you worked on branding him, his hands spread over the expanses of your plump ass cheeks. He squeezes them greedily and grinds you over his lap.

The friction is delicious against your paper thin panties, and you moan against his throat when your clit swelled. You pull away from Jungkook’s throat with wet lips, only from him to yank you back into him by the back of your neck.

"Take them off.." his lips command over yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth seamlessly. You sighed contently at the taste of him as you lifted your ass to peal your panties from your wet pussy.

Your skin was slick from the rain but deeper between your thighs, theres a moisture there that couldnt be blamed on the weather alone. Jungkook explored it with his fingers, his large hand curling under your ass to stroke your entrance. All the while he drowns out your breathy whines with his tongue, kissing you drunkenly as he played with your pussy.

You could feel just how ready he was beneath you, the curve of his erection bumping against your heat as you ground against him.

“Pull it out..Fuck me baby.." he says into your mouth and waste no time in reaching under his waistband.

His dick springs from his sweats and its as if he'd been allowed to breathe after holding it the way he exhales in relief. His swollen tip shined in the muted light that cut through the rain speckled glass, pre-cum leaking shamelessly from the hole.

You stared at it with lustful eyes and Jungkook smiled sexily with pride before pulling you in for another open mouth kiss.

He held you at your hips to lift you and your fingers dug into the leather upholstery for support as you lowered herself onto his length, both of you moaning in harmony as you sink onto him.

Jungkook's teeth dig into his lip as he buried himself as deep as your body would allow, spearing you hard against your sensitive cervix.

"Fuck.." you cried out, placing a hand on the roof of the car as your eyes drop to watch your pussy spread around Jungkook's girth.

Your clit bulged and begged to be touched as you rode him and Jungkook reads your body like a book. One of the hands that held your waist rushes to his mouth where his wet tongue waited for his thumb to press against it.

He uses it to rub messy circles over your sensitive button, causing a shock wave of sensation to shake your body.

“Oh fuck yesss…” you whimper, bouncing more frantically on Jungkook’s hardening dick.

You bears down on him hard and Jungkook takes advantage by rutting his hips upward, pinning you to the seat behind you with his other hand secured at your throat.

“Right fucking there..” he grits, tightening his grip on your airway as he fucked into you faster.

The messy wetness crescendos as Jungkook hit your spot over and over, your release drenching his lap and everything below him. Your voice breaks the moment your reach your peak, tapering off to a mumble of praises and his name.

“There you go..thats it..” Jungkook bites his lip as he guided your hips over his length, coaxing out every last bit of your high and allowing you to ride it out.

"Yes..There you go..thats it baby....shit.." he repeats, shuddering as his dick thumped inside of you. He hadn’t cum just yet, but he was close. It wouldnt take much either and he knew it.

Pulling out, Jungkook taps the side of your face gently to get your attention.

"C'mere...turn around."

Following his lead, you dazedly move your body to slot it between the front two seats. Your tummy rests on the middle console and Jungkook scoots over to the center backseat, his hands on your hips.

Before either of you could get cold from being apart, Jungkook re-enters you from behind.

He immediately begins to snap into you fast and hard with zero regard for how sensitive you were. Not that you cared since you met him thrust for thrust, bouncing back against him with a chorus of unbridled moans.

“Oh God…yes yes yes…Jungkook!” You sobbed, already feeling as if you were about to explode all over him again.

This position was always the killer.

Jungkook’s damp fringe swayed in spikes as he watched his dick disappear and reappear inside you, complimented by the way the your ass bounced and jiggled with every blow.

This was it. Thats all it would take for him to lose himself.

"Gonna cum..fuck Im gonna..." Jungkook rasps, his brows crinkling the closer he hurdled himself over the edge.

A second later, Jungkook pulls you back and buries his dick deep inside of your pussy before pulling out at the last possible second. Ropes of hot cum splattered all over your weeping hole and ass cheeks, his veiny tattooed hand jerking it fast to ensure he didnt waste a drop.

With something similar in mind, your thoughtlessly reach under your belly to catch his dripping nut that mixed woth your cum as it ran down your thighs, scooping a generous amount from your skin to taste.

Jungkook watched you with parted lips, his pulsing and sensitive dick still in hand as you used your fingers to clean yourself up. You toss him a naughty look over your shoulder, smiling evilly as you ran your tongue between your wet fingers.

"Youre fucking filthy..." he chuckles and you giggle around your cum coated digits.

"You love it." You exhale before sucking your fingers clean. Jungkook shakes his head, still in awe of you as he moved.

"Mmmh.." he hums as he sat back to pull his shirt over his head, most likely to use as a cum rag to finish cleaning you both up.

[a-spicy-reader]

CALL

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

English is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes

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Synopsis:

Answering the phone has never been so difficult. Between muffled groans and failed attempts to maintain composure, Ayana find yourself completely at Haechan's mercy.

WC: +1K

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The phone vibrated beside them, the screen lighting up the name of the caller. But Ayana barely registered it—her body was too hot, too trembling, being molded by the merciless rhythm Haechan dictated over her.

Her hair spread across the pillow, some strands sticking to her sweaty skin, others moving as her body was pulled and pushed by him. The soft texture brushed against her face and shoulders with each thrust, a detail that Haechan loved—he loved seeing her completely surrendered, each detail amplifying his dominance over her.

He chuckled softly as he watched her writhe, her eyes half-closed and her lips parted in a trapped moan. He picked up the cell phone and pressed it to her ear, his voice low and slurred, warm against her feverish skin.

— Answer.

Ayana tried to catch her breath, her trembling fingers reaching for the phone. But before she could swipe the screen, Haechan adjusted his movements — deeper, more precise. A gasp escaped her lips, her vision momentarily blurring.

“Continue. Speak.” The order came with a cruel smile, as if he knew exactly what he was doing.

She blinked rapidly, biting her lip to hold back any sound as she pressed the answer button. The voice on the other end of the line sounded muffled, but all she could manage was a ragged sigh, her breath coming in short gasps.

Haechan watched every detail—the trembling in her fingers, the way she tried to maintain control, the effort to keep her voice steady. But he knew. He knew she was completely at his mercy. And he loved it.

He slid a hand down her side, his warm, firm fingers gripping her waist, guiding her movements unhurriedly.

— Answer me soon, love. — He teased, his lips brushing against the damp skin of her neck.

Ayana tried. She really tried.

She forced out a weak, hoarse “hello” as her fingers clutched the sheets in search of some anchor to keep her from losing control.

— Hey! Are you okay? You disappeared! — The person on the other end of the line sounded worried.

Ayana bit her lip hard to contain a moan as Haechan moved again, deeper, more intense.

He buried his face in her shoulder, stifling a satisfied laugh.

— Say you’re busy… — he whispered, his teeth scraping the exposed skin.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she tried to formulate a coherent sentence.

— I-I… — Her voice trailed off as Haechan slid a hand to her throat, holding it with calculated pressure, his fingers warm against her feverish skin.

— Hmm? — He encouraged, his eyes fixed on her, completely fascinated by the way her body reacted to each touch.

The line went silent for a few seconds.

— Hello? Are you still there?

She swallowed hard, feeling on the verge of completely losing control.

— Y-yes… — Her voice came out slurred, almost inaudible. — I'm… busy right now.

Haechan bit his lower lip, clearly enjoying himself.

— Good girl.

And then, he made sure the call didn't last more than a few seconds.

She barely managed to end the call before the phone slipped from her trembling hand, falling somewhere between the sheets.

— So obedient… — Haechan murmured against her skin, his teeth digging lightly into her shoulder, as if he was marking her.

The smile on his face was mischievous, his eyes shining with amusement and desire as he watched her catch her breath. But he wasn’t going to let up. Not yet.

“You like this, don’t you?” His voice was low and husky, his fingers sliding down her sides, mapping every curve with a possessive touch.

She couldn’t answer. She didn’t need to. The way her body reacted to his every move said it all.

Haechan chuckled softly, satisfied, and without any warning, he held her waist firmly, making her arch her back in a ragged sigh. He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered:

“Then let’s see how much more you can take.” And without waiting, he started again. More intense. Deeper. As if he wanted to destroy any shred of control she might still have. Ayana's hair moved in waves around her face and shoulders with each thrust, the curls sliding like silk against his skin. It was a mesmerizing detail to Haechan, something that made him grip the back of her neck even tighter, guiding her movements as if he were molding her to himself.

Her moans mixed with the muffled sound of Haechan's heavy breathing. Her body trembled under his control, each movement sending electric waves through her nerves. He was merciless, his eyes fixed on hers, as if challenging her resistance.

"That's it... hold on just a little longer for me, princess..." His voice was husky, filled with something dark and tempting.

His hands tightened around her waist, forcing her to accept each thrust with more intensity. The pleasure was building, burning like embers on her skin.

She tried to hold on to the sheets, but he grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head, immobilizing her completely.

"You don't have to run... I know you want more."

A sob of pleasure escaped her lips, her teary eyes meeting his. He smiled satisfied, leaning down to kiss her, devouring her hungrily, as if he wanted to consume her whole.

— Go, baby… — He urged against her mouth, his voice broken. — Give me what I want.

And she did. Her body arched, shuddering violently as the pleasure finally hit her, stealing her air, her sanity, everything.

Haechan let out a low groan, feeling her tighten around him, and then he gave in, burying his face in her neck as his own ecstasy took over him.

For a moment, all that could be heard was their heavy breathing, their hearts beating at a frantic pace.

Haechan slid his fingers down her face, brushing away a strand of hair stuck to her sweaty skin. His smile was satisfied, smug, but there was something soft in his gaze as he watched her.

— You did it right… — He teased, his voice hoarse.

She rolled her eyes, still trying to catch her breath, and he chuckled, kissing her softly this time, as if he was savoring the taste of her.

“I think we deserve a second round, don’t you?”

[dynaloy]

Behind the Mask

Lee Byung-hun | Front man x fem!reader

Summary: After surviving the Squid Game, you’re approached by Hwang In-ho, the former Front Man, who secretly feels responsible for your pain. As he helps you rebuild your life, his guilt and your anger clash, but an unexpected bond begins to form. When he confesses his past and asks for forgiveness, you struggle with your feelings.

author’s note: You are free to imagine yourself however you want but I always imagine as a foreign woman in Korea. Hope you guys like it.

It had been a year since the Squid Game, and the world had moved on. The news cycles had churned out their fill of the horrors, the survivors had been cast back into obscurity, and the games had once again retreated into the shadows of urban legend. But for you, the nightmares remained as vivid as the day you had stepped off that fateful plane, the faces of your lost friends haunting your every waking moment. You had survived the games and won the prize but you weren’t living.

One evening, as the neon lights of the city flickered to life outside your small, cramped apartment, you decided to venture out in search of something—anything—to distract you from the ghosts of your past. Rain pattered against the windowpanes, creating a rhythm that seemed to echo the chaotic dance of your thoughts. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted from the small, dimly lit coffee shop downstairs, luring you in with the promise of warmth and solace.

You stepped inside, the bell jingling as the door swung shut behind you. The barista nodded a familiar greeting, and you took your usual spot in the corner, a table sticky with the residue of a hundred forgotten drinks. As you stared into the murky depths of your black coffee, trying to read the future in the swirling patterns, a man entered. Tall, with a sharp jawline and piercing eyes, he had an aura of quiet strength that seemed almost out of place in the dingy establishment.

He noticed you immediately, his gaze lingering for a second too long before he ordered a drink and took a seat across from you. He introduced himself as Hwang In-ho, and though something about his name tickled the back of your mind, you couldn’t quite place it. His voice was soothing, his mannerisms gentle—like a balm to your soul in a world that had become too harsh and jaded. Without realizing it, you found yourself opening up to him, sharing the weight of your burdens with someone who seemed to understand your pain. As the hours slipped by, you realized that for the first time in a long while, you felt a glimmer of hope, a whisper of human connection in the vast loneliness that had become your existence.

Over the next few weeks, In-ho became a fixture in your life—helping you find a stable job, offering a listening ear, and even cooking you dinner when the memories grew too much to bear. His kindness was a stark contrast to the ruthless efficiency you remembered from the games, and you couldn’t help but be drawn to the enigma that was this man. In the quiet moments, you’d catch him watching you, his eyes filled with a sadness that mirrored your own. It was as if he was fighting his own invisible demons, ones that you desperately wanted to help him vanquish.

But there were moments, fleeting as they were, that made you question his intentions. The way his hand would hover just a fraction too long when he handed you a cup of tea, or the knowing glances he’d cast at the TV when news of the Squid Game would briefly resurface. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was holding something back, that there was more to him than met the eye. Yet, you pushed these thoughts aside, telling yourself that you were just being paranoid—that the games had left you too suspicious of even the most innocent of gestures.

Then, one night, as you rummaged through a pile of old newspapers, a photograph slipped into view—an image of the Front Man, the mastermind behind the Squid Game. Your heart stopped as you stared at the picture, the masked figure’s eyes eerily similar to the ones you’d looked into so often during your late-night chats with In-ho. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut. He was watching you, not just as a concerned friend, but as someone who knew the darkest secrets of your soul. You had to know the truth.

You waited for In-ho's next visit, your nerves jangling like an out-of-tune guitar string. When he arrived, his smile was as warm as ever, but you couldn’t ignore the tremor in your hand as you handed him a cup of coffee. The air grew thick with tension as you held the newspaper out to him, the damning photo on full display.

"Is this you?" you demanded, your voice shaking.

He took the paper, his eyes flitting from your face to the image and back again. For a moment, you thought he might deny it. But then, with a sigh that seemed to deflate his very essence, he nodded.

"Yes, it is," he admitted, his voice low and pained. "But please, let me explain."

He began to recount his history, the story of his brother and the origins of the Squid Game. He told about how his wife died without treatment and he went to the game to pay his debts, he won the prize after the founder befriends him and died letting the control of the game on his hands.

"After that," he paused, his voice thick with regret, "I became the Front Man. I watched over everything, ensured the games ran smoothly. And when you played, I watched you, too."

You felt the color drain from your face as his words sank in. "Why me?" you whispered, your voice barely audible over the hiss of the espresso machine.

"Because you were different," he replied, his gaze intense. "You had a fire in your eyes—a will to live that was stronger than the rest. I didn't want you to win because you were the best player, but because I knew you had a reason to survive."

You slammed the newspaper down on the counter, the sound echoing through the empty café. "That doesn't change anything," you spat. "You were the one who sent me there, who forced me to watch my friends die."

He didn't flinch at your anger. Instead, he leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I know what I've done is unforgivable. But since that day, I've seen the way you've struggled. The pain you carry is like my own, and I wanted to help you carry it."

For a long moment, you just stared at him, the weight of his confession pressing down on you like an invisible vice. His words, his demeanor, everything about him was a stark contrast to the cold, calculated figure you knew from the games. Yet, the evidence was right there in front of you. You had to decide whether to trust the man before you or hold onto the anger that had become your lifeline.

Taking a deep breath, you demanded, "What do you want from me?"

He looked at you with a mix of hope and desperation. "Redemption, perhaps. But mostly, I want you to understand that I'm not the monster you think I am. I'm just a man who made terrible choices, trying to make amends."

The room grew quiet, save for the rhythmic patter of the rain outside. You felt torn between the rage that burned within you and the strange comfort you had found in his presence. As the silence stretched on, a question bubbled to the surface of your thoughts—what would you do with the truth now that you had it?

"I need time to process this," you finally said, your voice firm despite the turmoil within.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Take all the time you need. I'll be here."

With that, he left you alone in the coffee shop, the mask of his true identity shattered on the floor between you. Outside, the rain had turned to a gentle drizzle, as if the world was holding its breath in anticipation of your next move.

You sat there for what felt like an eternity, the photograph and the story he told you swirling in your mind. His words of regret and his desire for redemption echoed in your ears. Was he truly sorry, or was this just another game, another twisted manipulation?

Days turned into weeks as you wrestled with your emotions, trying to reconcile the man you thought you knew with the monster he had revealed himself to be. The late-night chats grew fewer, the warmth of his smile cooler with each passing encounter. Yet, with every step you took away from him, you felt a strange pull, a whisper that maybe—just maybe—his love for you was genuine.

One rainy evening, you found yourself standing outside the coffee shop again, the neon lights casting a warm glow on the damp pavement. You knew you had to make a choice: either walk away from the enigma that was Hwang In-ho and the painful ties to your past, or take a chance and confront him with the full weight of your anger and doubt.

With a deep breath, you pushed open the door, the bell chiming a greeting that felt like a declaration of war. He was there, sitting at your usual table, looking up at you with those haunted eyes.

"You came," he said, his voice tentative.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. You had rehearsed a thousand scenarios in your mind, but now that you were facing him, the words felt jumbled and raw. He looked so... ordinary. The man you had feared, the man who had orchestrated your living hell, reduced to sipping coffee in a worn-out sweater, his eyes filled with a mix of hope and despair.

You took a seat across from him, the air between you crackling with tension. He waited, his hands clasped around the mug as if it was a lifeline. You studied him, searching for the Front Man you knew, the one who had made you play those games, who had watched you suffer. But all you saw was In-ho, the man who had held your hand in the dark, who had made you laugh when you thought you had forgotten how.

"I've been thinking," you began, your voice steady despite the tumult in your soul. "About what you said. About what you are, and what you've done."

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "And?"

You took a deep breath, the scent of the coffee shop mingling with the dampness of the rain outside. "And I’ve decided that I can’t live with the anger anymore. It’s eating away at me, In-ho. I need to let it go."

The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words. Raindrops pattered against the windows, creating a rhythmic backdrop to the silence that stretched out like a tightrope between you.

"But," you added, your voice firm, "Forgiveness doesn’t mean I excuse what you’ve done. It means I’m willing to let go of the anger, for myself. So, yes, I forgive you—not because you deserve it, but because I need to move forward. And if you truly want to change, I’ll give you the chance to prove it."

Relief washed over In-ho’s face, his shoulders visibly relaxing. "I understand," he murmured. "And I’ll do everything in my power to make it right."